


Take Me By The Hand

by MyChemicalRachel



Category: Avenged Sevenfold, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angst, Consent is Sexy, Fluff, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Mpreg, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 19:12:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 59
Words: 134,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyChemicalRachel/pseuds/MyChemicalRachel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Screw the fluffy cute crap and let's get straight to the point; Pregnancy sucks. And it's only worse when you're a man. Frank finds himself at the party of the year with the guy of his dreams. After only one night, Frank finds himself falling hard for Zacky, and it seems like Zacky feels the same way, until Frank's friends jokingly convince him to take a pregnancy test... That turns out positive. Frank can't be pregnant though-- He's a boy! Suddenly, Frank's life is turned upside down, becoming the center of attention when everyone wants to know the same thing; How does a teenage boy become pregnant? Governmental testing, news vans parked on his lawn, an apathetic boyfriend, and morning sickness seem to all become overwhelming and Frank only has one person he can turn to. His best friend, Mikey. But what happens when Mikey's older brother, Gerard, comes into the picture? Can he help save Frank, in more ways than one?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One! :D

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this simply because I hate m-preg stories. They weird me out. So I decided to write one :)

I slam the locker door shut and lean my forehead against the cool metal. After only a second, I pull back and slam it forward again. Then again. After six times of beating my head against the locker door, I stumble backwards a little, my thoughts and vision getting kind of fuzzy. But the memory I was trying to beat out of my mind is still there like a big blinking neon sign. And the sign says  _FRANK IERO IS AN IDIOT_. I glare at the locker in front of me, my eyes boring into the rusted yellow metal, as I contemplate hitting my face against it again.

"Calm the death glare, Frankie," I hear Mikey's voice beside me, but make no move to look at him. "I'm sure the locker isn't at fault." I feel his slim fingers as he grips my chin and pulls my face around to see his. He narrows his eyes, eyeing the red mark I can feel forming on my forehead. "Though it does seem to have some explaining to do." He turns to my closed locker, kicking the door. The shrill noise echoes through the emptying halls. "Damn locker!" He exclaims. "Why did you hit Frank!?" He kicks it again and I roll my eyes, grabbing his arm and dragging him away from the row of lockers before he can get into a fist fight with it. Mikey simply laughs, letting me lead him outside the school and into the fresh spring air. Well, as fresh as anything can be in New Jersey. The smell of garbage still assaults my nose and puffy gray clouds of smoke from nearby factories fumigates the sky. But still; It's finally spring. Winter is slowly disappearing and nice weather is gladly taking it's place. 

I let go of Mikey's arm when we reach the parking lot, instead hitching my messenger bag further up on my shoulder. I glance around the lot nervously, my eyes scanning the clusters of students, searching for one person in particular.  _Zacky Baker_. My heartbeat accelerates at just the thought of him and I feel the urge once again to beat my head against the closest object. When my eyes finally land on him, across the lot, I freeze. He's already sitting on his motorcycle, jet black with red lettering on the side that read ' _Vengeance_ ,' talking casually with Synyster. I feel my stomach clench in knots as butterflies and envy are both set loose.

I always get nervous when I see Zacky. His masculine figure, his slick black hair, his snake bit piercings. Oh how I wanted to run my tongue over the small silver studs that jutted from his lips. I wondered how they would feel against my own single lip ring. I don't even realize when I suck the ring into my mouth, biting down on the metal anxiously.

And of course envy; Synyster Gates was perfect. He was tall and toned and... hell, he was attractive in every way I wasn't. He was only seventeen and he already had various tattoos which, I knew, made him all the more gorgeous. I knew Zacky saw his charm, too. And I hated it. Not to mention, Zacky and Synyster were the same age. I was just the weird sophomore kid who had the biggest crush in the history of mankind. 

As I stand there, unmoving, simply watching the two talk, Zacky suddenly looks up. My eyes meet his and, in that moment, I feel like I might throw up. He grins at me from across the lot and I feel a deep red blush creep it's way onto my cheeks.  _Shit_ , he just caught me staring at him. I swallow hard, mentally slapping myself, and force my eyes to the ground.

I grab Mikey's arm again and pull him toward the car. "Come on," I mumble.

"What?" Mikey asks, confused. I can almost feel when his eyes land on Zacky because Mikey grins at me, laughing. "He's still watching you." He tells me in a low voice. 

My stomach flutters again and I fight the urge to look up. Instead, I find the black Malibu and open the back door, shoving Mikey toward the passanger's seat. I climb in, my face still burning with embarrassment. I keep my gaze turned down, but Gerard's eyes catch mine in the rear view mirror as his brother scrambles into the front seat, though he says nothing.

Gerard is Mikey's older brother. Even though Mikey's my best friend, I don't know much about his brother. I know Gerard is a senior, one grade above Synyster and Zacky though he's the same age. He doesn't really talk much, though Mikey says that's just around other people. At home, Mikey says, Gerard barely shuts up. 

Mikey twists around in the seat to watch me, grin still plastered on his gaunt face. "So what happened today in last period?" He asks curiously. "You skipped and then I found you beating your head against your locker."

The memory flashes back to me, and I put my head in my hands, groaning. I originally had every intention of going to last period, but as I was coming out of the boys bathroom, I saw Zacky. He was alone, which was unusual due to his high popularity, so I decided to go talk to him. He was putting some books into his locker, everyone else already shuffling into class already, so we were nearly alone. My heart had started racing and my my palms felt sweaty. I gnawed on my lip ring for about two minutes, just watching him, before finally getting up the courage to walk over to him. When I did, I stood there awkwardly, smiling and eye-raping him. "Hey, Zacky," I had said, my nerves showing in my voice. 

He glanced at me sideways, smirking. Oh god, that smirk. I wanted to shove him up against the locker and kiss him, but I had refrained, trying to play it cool. But my mind went blank. I couldn't even think of my own name for the life of me. I stood there, my mouth gaping open, admiring him from barely a foot away. He looked back over at me, an amused smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You okay, Frankie?" He asked and my heart and brain both stopped working. Only two things were going through my head. First thought;  _Oh. My. Fuck. He just called me Frankie._ Second thought;  _I want to shove my tongue so far down your throat._

Incidentally, I said the latter out loud. 

Zacky nearly choked trying to contain the laughter that forced it's way out of him. My face flared redder than I thought it could possibly go. I didn't even wait for a response. I had turned and ran back into the bathroom, hiding there for the rest of the period before the final bell rang and I violently introduced my locker to my face. 

"Nothing happened," I lie to Mikey, who is still watching me in amusement, waiting for me to say something in response to his probing. 

"Oh, come on," He prompts. "I know something had to have went down."

Something did go down; My ego, my pride, and my dignity. They all went very far down. But I simply shake my head, leaning my throbbing head against the glass window as Gerard pulled the car out of the lot. The last thing I see is Zacky Baker, still watching me, as we pull out onto the street. 


	2. Two x_x

Mikey falls over, laughing hysterically. He clutches his stomach, his eyes getting teary as he finds humor in my pain and embarrassment. I knew I shouldn't have told him what happened with Zacky, about my " _I want to shove my tongue so far down your throat_ " comment, but he pestered me until I gave in. Now, he's wheezing with the giggles that had erupted from him. Good. I can already hear his asthma acting up and narrow my eyes. I shove him away, watching him yelp and tumble to the floor while I huffed and leaned back on the bed, crossing my arms over my chest. 

This was  _not_  funny.

"I hate you so much," I mutter, glaring at the textured off-white ceiling. 

Mikey's head pops up over the side of the bed, watching me from his new position on the floor, giggles now at least somewhat stifled. "This is hilarious," He says. I simply harden my expression, still shooting death glares at the ceiling, willing it to fall and hit the younger Way brother on the head. Mikey just climbs up onto the bed next to me. I watch him carefully. If he laughs one more time, I'm pushing his ass back on the floor. 

He pulls his legs under him and looks at me, bouncing a little, his infamous poker face now in place. "So what are you gonna do?"

I sigh. "Avoid Zacky like he's contracted the black plague. Hope I never have to see him again. Ever." Okay, so maybe I was overreacting a little. I wouldn't be able to avoid him forever; We still had one more year of High School left together after this, and this was a small school. Mikey knew that, too.

He rolls his eyes. "I think you should talk to him."

It's my turn to laugh but, unlike Mikey's whimsical giggles, mine is short and humorless. "I tried to talk to him today and look at how that turned out." I flinch at the memory as it comes to mind again. I push the thought away and groan. I bring both of my hands up, rubbing my eyes, feeling tired all of a sudden. What time is it, anyway? I move my gaze to the left, trying to see the alarm clock set up on Mikey's nightstand, but my eyes land on him instead. He watches his hands thoughtfully, bottom lip sucked in between his teeth. I cock an eyebrow. "What's on your mind, Mikes?" I ask.

He looks up, surprised, like he forgot that I was even there. He opens his mouth slightly before closing it again and shaking his head. "Nothing."

"Liar," I accuse easily. I prop myself up on one elbow and poke him in the side. "Come on. Talk to Frankie."

Mikey rolls his eyes, but refuses to look at me. I wait silently for him to speak. Finally, he sighs and his eyes meet mine. "I heard people talking in the hall today," He says, and then stops. I know there's more, so I again wait. His eyes drop to the gray sheet beneath us and the rest comes out in a rush. "Synyster's having a party this weekend and Zacky's going as his date."

I don't respond. I don't feel like I can. It feels like my heart just sank like the Titanic, and Mikey's words were the ice burg. He glances up at me and I force myself to swallow, knowing I need to say something. "Oh..." Yep. Great job, Frank. That sounded intelligent. But that was the only response I could muster as the pressure in my chest made it hard to breathe. 

I should have seen this coming. In all honesty, I  _did_  see this coming. I should've just accepted it. I knew that Synyster was popular and gorgeous and nice and soon enough Zacky would be wrapped around his little finger. I knew that I would never have a chance with Zacky but...  _Fuck_ , it hurt like hell finally knowing that Synyster had won him over. And I was here, biting my lip and trying not to think about what was bound to happen between them at the party this weekend. 

"You okay?" Mikey asks, his voice surprisingly soft.

I look up at him, but seeing the sympathy in his eyes doesn't make me feel any better. I'm not usually someone that accepts sympathy; Shit happens and you take it and someone saying " _I'm sorry_ " for something that was completely out of their control was pointless. I absently scratch my arm, now avoiding Mikey's empathetic gaze, as I stand up. "I'm fine," I lie. "It's getting late, I should probably get home." Mikey nods sadly. "I'm fine," I repeat, this time meeting his curious gaze, before dropping it and making my way to his bedroom door. "I'll see you tomorrow."

I push the door open, moving into the hallway. My gaze is still fixated on the floor, which is why I don't see Gerard until I run into him. Hard. My body, smaller than his, is knocked backwards from the force and I trip over my own feet. I think I'm going down for sure, but Gerard's arms reach out just in time, catching me and pulling me to a stable standing position. He makes sure I'm not going to topple over again before averting his gaze and letting me go. "Sorry," He mumbles, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his oversized hoodie. 

I shake my head, knowing very well it was my fault, not his. "It's fine," I say, hearing my own voice crack. Oh crap... I hope that Gerard didn't hear me, but of course I had no such luck. His hazel eyes immediately meet my own, his brows creasing together in a mixture of confusion and what looks like concern.

"Are you crying, Frank?" He asks. Yeah, that's definitely concern in his voice. Damn these sympathetic people!

I quickly shake my head, but I feel the tears already stinging in my eyes. "No, of course not," I say. My gaze drops to the ground and I mentally curse my own feelings for betraying me like this. "I gotta go."

Without another word, and without waiting for a response, I slip past him toward the stairs. I make my way through the quiet house without running into Donna or Donald, the Way brothers' parents, thankfully. But as soon as I shut the front door behind me, letting the cool air hit my face in the fading sunlight, I feel the tears come pouring out.


	3. Chapter Three ^.^

I don't want to go to school. I don't want to get out of bed or even open my eyes. I want to lay here, tangled in my Batman sheets, wallowing in my self pity. Of course, my bladder had other plans and, within two minutes, I was off the bed and rushing to the bathroom down the hall. 

As I'm washing my hands, I happen to glance up. I catch sight of myself in the large mirror and nearly cringe. I look like utter shit. My black hair is ratted, sticking up at weird angles. There are bags under my eyes, which are bloodshot and puffy. I didn't cry myself to sleep-- I know that's what you're thinking. That's not the case. Instead, I fell to sleep rather easily. The lack of sleep was caused by my parents, who decided to spend most of the night screaming at each other in the next room over. Even with headphones jammed in my ears, I could still hear them.

The fighting has been getting worse lately. It's a constant war between the two of them and I'm just there in the middle, watching helplessly from the sidelines. I had tried to interfere a few times before, but that got me nowhere except for them demanding that I choose a side; How was I supposed to choose between my parents when I thought they were both being incredibly childish? 

Last night, the fight was about me. 

"You don't even see what you're doing to the poor kid!" My mother had shrieked. "All he's asking for is an hour of your precious time and you can't even do that!" I sat there with my head buried under the pillow, trying to drown out the sound of their voices. She was talking about getting me a car. My dad had promised, when I turned sixteen back in October, that he would take me to the used car lot and I could pick one out. I already knew which one I wanted-- an old beat up Firebird, rusted black paint and dented fender included, not to mention the torn up seats and busted stereo. But she was a beaut. And I wanted her. My dad had been assuring me for months that we would go pick it up, but now here we were; the middle of March and still no car. 

"I don't think he's ready to drive," My dad retorted and even I, alone in my room, had rolled my eyes. He knew damn well that I was ready to drive; He was the one that taught me.

"Oh please," My mother laughed humorlessly. There's silence and then the voices become more muffled, their tones dropping an octave. "Is this because of what he told us?"

It was at this point that I had pulled the pillow off my head and put my ear to the wall, straining now to hear the conversation. This should be good.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Even through the wall, I could call bullshit on my father. He knew exactly what she was referring to and so did I. That didn't stop my mother from saying it anyway. 

"Are you avoiding him because he told you that he was gay?" I can only imagine my mother's glare now, staring my father down, challenging him to admit that she was right. Back in November, soon after my birthday, I decided to come clean with my parents. I knew they would accept me-- my mother, at least-- for who I was. So I told them I was gay. My father had been avoiding me ever since. My mother and I both had a theory why, and now here we were, confronting him about it, me on the other side of the wall of course. But it was also in that moment that I decided I didn't want to know the answer to this question. 

What if I found out that my father had been avoiding me because I was gay? That wouldn't change anything. This new information wouldn't make him suddenly want to spend time with me again, and it most certainly wouldn't stop me from liking boys. So I pulled away from the wall, finding my iPod in the clutter that hid the top of my desk, jammed in the earphones, and tried to sleep.

Of course, looking at myself in the mirror right now, I regretted that decision. I hadn't been able to actually rest, my thoughts more focused on my dad and then somehow wandering back to Synyster and Zacky. Now I looked like shit and there was nothing I could do about it. 

_Or was there?_

Mikey had always told me that he knew I gay because I "dressed like a gay person"... Whatever that meant. I knew I couldn't control who I liked and the way I dressed had no effect on that. But what if I was wrong? What if I was gay because of the way I dressed? I narrow my eyes at my own reflection, challenging myself as my fingers grip the marble counter. What if I dressed happy? Would I automatically become happier? 

My head starts hurting from the confusing theory, but I figure; What the hell? It's worth a shot, right?

I make my way back to my bedroom and start throwing various clothes from the dresser drawers. That's when the realization hits me, at the same time a pair of jeans do; What does dressed happy even look like? Rainbows and unicorns? Fuck no. I purse my lips...  _What makes me happy?_

I chew lightly on my lip ring as I pull some clothes on. When I finally slip my black Converse on, I'm dressed in ripped jeans and a Black Flags T-shirt. As a finishing touch, I pull on my fingerless skeleton gloves and smear on a little black eyeliner. Having a stare-down once again with my reflection, I force a cheeky smile, attempting to show all my teeth at once, and then sigh. I don't feel any better. I look better, that's a plus, but I still feel like shit. Regardless, I figure there's nothing I can do about it and, since I'm already dressed, decide to head to school. 

As soon as I step through the front doors, I have the sudden urge to turn around and bolt back toward my house. The first person my eyes land on is Zacky, leaned against the row of lockers and smiling flirtatiously at Synyster.

I take a deep breath. I can do this. Happy clothes. Happy attitude.  _Be fucking happy, Frank_. I avert my gaze and move quickly to my own locker, pushing the door open and fighting the impulse to climb in and shut the door behind me. Instead, I put a few textbooks in and grab what I know I'll need for first period. Just as I'm closing the locker, I glance up, my gaze meeting none other than Zacky's.

_Shit, he probably thinks I've been looking at him this whole time! Look away, Iero! LOOK AWAY!_

"Hey," I don't even notice when Zacky takes those few short strides from his locker to mine, now standing merely a foot away.

I mentally slap myself and force myself to remain calm, but my mind is screaming.  _HOLY MOTHER OF CRAP, ZACKY BAKER IS TALKING TO ME._ I smile. "Hi."  _Great, Frank. Ingenious reply. You, my dear sir, are an idiot._

Zacky leans against the locker next to mine, nearly towering over me. Holy frick, how have I never noticed how tall he is before? Or attractive? Okay, clearly I have taken notice of his attractiveness. But it still amazes me. The way his eyes glimmer, the amusement seeming to show on his entire face. "So, Syn's having a party this weekend."

And my heart sinks once again.

I clear my throat against the annoying lump that settles there. I look down, focusing on the journal I have in my hands, pretending like I'm actually doing something more than making a complete fool of myself. "Yeah, I heard."

"Are you going?" Zacky lowers his head a little, but I keep my eyes down, refusing to look at him.

I shrug and shake my head. "No," I admit. "Nobody wants me to go, though. I didn't get invited." I want to turn away from the gorgeous boy in front of me and beat my head against the locker again. Maybe this time I'll hit it hard enough to black out. 

"I'm inviting you," Zacky says and my eyes widen, finally finding his again. He smirks down at me. "It should be a lot of fun."

Of course it will be fun for Zacky and Synyster. I nearly cringe at the thought of what will happen at that party. And being there while they...  _do it._  That seems even worse than not being invited at all.

I shake my head again, looking down and forcing a smile. "Like I said, nobody really wants me there."

Zacky laughs lightly. "How obvious do I have to make it, Frankie?" His voice lowers and he leans in closer. I can smell his aftershave and cologne and I just want to pull him closer to me. I only tighten my grip on the journal and thank god that I took a shower this morning. His lips are almost touching my ear when he speaks again. "I want you to go."

My heart stops and I fight the urge to scream like a girl who just got asked to her high school prom. But this is so much better; Zacky Baker just asked me to go to Synyester's party with him. My eyes are wide when he pulls away, smiling. I manage a nod and swallow hard. 

"Good." His grin grows even wider. "I'll see you there." He winks-- _HE ACTUALLY FUCKING WINKS_ \-- and then he disappears down the hall.


	4. FOUR ( • Y • )

"Do I look fat in this shirt?" I demand. I suck my stomach in and glance at Mikey in the full-length mirror that stands near the door. Worry knots in my stomach, showing clearly in both my voice and expression.

Mikey simply rolls his eyes. "You never look fat, Frank." He sighs. "You're like ninety pounds."

"You are  _not_  helping." I narrow my eyes at him before pulling the shirt off over my head and tossing it into the pile of rejected clothing I've already gone through. I had already been through all of my own clothes, finding absolutely nothing good enough to wear. So I came over to Mikey's thirty minutes ago, now rummaging through his shirts in search of something to wear to Synyster's party tonight. I pull on a form-fitting Anthrax shirt as Mikey groans, falling back onto the bed. I run my hands down my torso once, smoothing the fabric out before turning to look at Mikey. I hold my arms out. "Is this okay?"

Mikey just watched the ceiling. "Yeah, that's great."

"You didn't even look!" I accuse, sighing in exasperation and turning back to the mirror.

In the same moment, Mikey's bedroom door swings open and Gerard peeks his head in. "Mikes, Mom says you need to get your shit out of the living room."

"What shit out of the living room?" Mikey wonders, still not looking up.

Gerard shrugs. "I don't know. Whatever shit you have in there."

"Fine." Mikey sighs. Gerard goes to close the door but Mikey sits up suddenly, his eyes wide. He points a slim finger at his brother, making him stop. "Gee!" He exclaims and uneasy expression comes across Gerard's face.

"What?" He asks wearily. 

Mikey shifts his finger so it's now pointing at me. "How does Frank look?"

Gerard narrows his eyes a little before shifting his gaze to me. "Umm... Why?"

"He's worried about Synyster's party tonight," Mikey explains. I roll my eyes, looking back to the mirror, my eyes grazing over my own body. 

Gerard's voice seems to lose it's weary edge, but his words still sound guarded somehow. "You're going to that?"

Before I have the chance to answer, Mikey jumps in again, his voice boastful yet taunting at the same time. "Zacky asked him to go." I see his cocky smile in the reflection and groan internally. At this rate, everyone was bound to know that Zacky asked me out by nightfall. Then again, if things went as planned at the party, people would start realizing it soon enough without the help of Mikey's big mouth anyway. 

"Oh..." Gerard says simply, his expression unreadable when I finally bring my eyes back to him. His eyes slide over my outfit and he smiles a little. "Yeah, you look really good." 

"See?!" Mikey demands of me while Gerard slips out of the room, pulling the door closed quietly behind him.

I shake my head. "Why does it matter what your brother thinks?" I ask.

Mikey shrugs. "I figured you might need his gay-boy insight." He yawns, scratching the back of his head. "I'm not good with the whole picking-out-clothes thing."

"Wait," I say, something in his response catching my attention, and turn back around to face him. "Gerard is gay?"

"Yeah," Mikey says, like it should be obvious. Just because I am gay does  _not_  mean my gaydar functions properly. Last year, I hit on this guy for two weeks before someone was kind enough to inform me that, though he was well-styled and wore guyliner, he was indeed straight and had a girlfriend.

I shrug off the thoughts and turn back to the mirror before me. I have to admit, I did look pretty good. For a five-foot-three-inch sophomore kid, at least. I knew I would never reach Synyster Gates' level of attractiveness, but tonight this was as good as it was going to get for me. Of course, if things went as planned, I wouldn't be wearing much clothing by the end of the night anyway...

•••

The body's that press around me seem too close for comfort. The pounding music is too loud in my ears and the constant presence of another person within centimeters from me makes me feel claustrophobic.

The house is huge; Apparently Synyster had more than looks-- He had money. Or his family did, at least. It was an old fashioned two story brick building, the interior basically torn out and redesigned to be more modern. In the den, there was a 64-inch flat screen television mounted onto the wall. A fireplace took up literally half of one entire wall, a large stone hearth stretching out in front of it. Two couches, both looking like expensive leather, were placed in adjacent corners, overlooking the room. Both were also currently in use by various couples, some kissing while others merely talked and laughed.

The smell of alcohol was potent in the air as soon as I pushed the front door open and came into the house. I saw a few spots on the white carpeted floor that looked like someone had already spilled beer on the ground. The party was in full swing when I arrived, making my way awkwardly through the various downstairs rooms in search of the kitchen.

When I finally did find the kitchen, I was held up by a mass of people who had huddled around the doorway. Standing on the tips of my toes, craning my neck to see around, I caught sight of a few distinct events. Just inside the door, where the crowd had... Well,  _crowded_ , were a few kids I vaguely recognized. One boy was kneeling on the floor with the end up a beer bong in his mouth. Another was pouring the bronze alcohol into the funnel, laughing manically when it started overflowing and the kid on the ground choked as he drank it down. Across the room was even more disturbing; Two girls were laying on a large white island, their shirts pulled up to their chests. They grin as two guys I recognized as Seniors poured something from a shot glass into their navels and instantaneously lowered their heads.

I'm pulled away from the sight when I feel two arms wrap around my waist. I jump, prepared to whip around and pepper spray a bitch, but relax when I feel lips close to my ear. Zacky's distinct laugh sounds softly in my ear. My heartbeat accelerates in time with the pumping music and I hope he can't hear it. "I'm glad you made it," He says. His voice is quiet against the music, but he's not even close to whispering. Instead, I feel like he's nearly yelling. I grin, turning in his grasp to face him. I don't know what to say so I remain silent, too afraid to blurt out something that will embarrass the hell out myself. He leans closer to me. "Did you want something to drink?" I swallow hard and nod. 

Zacky grabs my hand in his and moves past me toward the crowd still gathered in the doorway. He doesn't even hesitate, just pushes past them, some of them actually moving aside to let us through. A few of their eyes meet mine but I mostly try to avoid their scrutiny. I can already tell what they're thinking;  _Why the hell is Zacky fucking Baker with the undergrown sophomore kid?_  But in this moment, I don't care what they think. Zacky's hand is in mine, leading me toward the mountain of alcohol in the center of the room.

I bite my lip against a grin as Zacky drops my hand and focuses on the beverages. There's more drink choices than I've ever seen; Cases of beer, some in bottles, others in cans, in more brands than I thought there were. There were two kegs, one stuffed under the counter while one was perched on the ledge above it.  There was boxed wine and glass bottles of Vodka and Everclear. Half of the stuff, I didn't even know what it was!

Zacky turns back with two red solo cups, handing one to me. I smile and gulp down a big drink, my throat suddenly feeling dry. I silently thank god that it's too loud to hear each other speak because I have no idea what to say. I think I'm still in shock that I'm here-- at the party of the year-- with  _Zacky Baker_. I should really stop calling him by both his first and last name. I mean, we only have one Zacky in the entire High School. It's not like when I say  _Zacky_ , people don't know who I'm referring to. We have a few Zach's, even a Zachariah, but only one Zacky. Besides, if by some magic, things started to grow between us, I would have to drop the Baker part and call him just Zacky. It would be too weird to call my own boyfriend by his first and last name. Oh god, now I'm imagining Zacky actually being considered my  _boyfriend_. 

Zacky leans closer to me, amusement lighting up his eyes. "What are you thinking about?" He asks. Oh shit... Well for obvious reasons, I should  _not_  tell him what I was honestly thinking. He would think I'm a total creep.

I open my mouth to respond, not even getting one word out when Zacky shakes his head, leaning even closer. "It's too loud here," He states. "Why don't we go someplace quieter?"

He pulls back, the seduction that was apparent in his words seeming to show on his face. I swallow hard at his question and nod before bringing the cup once again to my lips, draining the last of the liquid. No way was I finishing the night without the assistance of at least a little alcohol pumping through my veins. But getting drunk is the last thing on my mind when Zacky grabs my hand, grinning, and pulls we away from the kitchen toward the stairs. 


	5. Capitolo Cinque

Zacky leads me up a narrow staircase, pushing past a few people who have taken up refuge on the steps. When we reach the second floor, the music immediately seems to quiet and the clusters of people seem to thin out, only a few lost stragglers wandering in a wasted haze down the hall. But he doesn't stop there. He pulls me down the long hallway, past a few closed wooden doors to one that hangs open at the far end of the corridor. When the door shuts behind us, enclosing just me and Zacky in the dark room, the music almost disappears completely. I can still feel the beat of it in my body as the bass shakes the house around us, but the sound seems like nothing but muffled noise.

I wander farther into the room, only dimly lit by the illumination of the outside street light that seeps in through the windows. It's a bedroom, rather empty but elegant at the same time. There's a single queen sized bed in the center of the room, draped with beige colored sheets and comforter, and one wooden dresser pushed against the wall to the left. I assume it to be some sort of guest room by the empty ambiance it takes on.

Zacky shuts the door and turns to face me as I take a seat on the end of the bed. "That's better," He smiles. His voice sounds quieter to my ears and I can't tell if it's because he's not yelling anymore or if it's due to the lack of music. Either way, I feel relieved that it's finally just the two of us. 

I swing my legs absently, not reaching the floor, and watch the ground nervously. I see the toes of Zacky's shoes as he steps closer to me and look up at him. It doesn't feel real. The way my pulse beats in my ears, my palms slick from sweat, the lump in my throat that makes my entire mouth feel dry. "I'm really glad you came tonight." Zacky's voice has dropped lower, taking on a husky tone that kind of turns me on. 

I swallow hard. "Yeah. I almost didn't." I laugh lightly. "I was kind of shocked when you asked me."

He tilts his head to one side, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Why's that?"

I shrug limply, like it doesn't really matter. "I heard you were coming with Synyster."

His eyes widen a little, surprised. "Oh," Is all he says for a moment. He comes closer, stopping only a few inches in front of me. I feel even shorter because I'm sitting, but because the bed is so far off the ground, I'm about the same height I would be if standing. Zacky doesn't say anything for a long minute, just watching me. It feels almost awkward after a moment, like he's mentally undressing me with his eyes though they never leave my face. Eventually, he shakes his head. "He asked me," He admits. "But I didn't want to be with him tonight." I feel one slim finger slip under my chin, tilting my head up to look at him. "I want to be with you."

_Holy. Fuck._

I mentally slap myself, needing the encouragement to say something,  _anything_  so I don't seem like a complete dumbass, but my mind goes blank. My head is spinning with his words and the close proximity as he leans even closer. His face is barely an inch from mine, his eyes searching my own, before glancing down at my lips. "I want to shove my tongue so far down your throat."

I feel my lips spread into a cheeky grin and swallow hard. I don't know where the cockiness comes from all of a sudden, but I tilt my head to one side. "Then what are you waiting for?"

And then the moment I have been waiting all of my life, or what feels like all of my life for, comes. Zacky leans into me, closing the scant distance between us. His mouth collides with my own in one short, chaste kiss. It lasts only a few seconds before Zacky pulls back, a libidinous glow in his eyes, and chastity seems like the last thing on his mind.

Within a second, he's pushing me back onto the mattress, climbing on top of me, our lips meeting once again. This kiss, unlike the first, is hungry and full of passion. It feels messy and clumsy as his tongue probes my bottom lip, begging for entrance which I happily grant. The cool chill of his snake bites contrasts with the heated contact of our skin, clanking a few times against my own lip ring and sending goosebumps across my skin. It only intensifies when I feel his hands slip beneath my-- well, technically  _Mikey's--_ shirt. He's anxious, as am I, but he seems to be more hurried than I am. I want to focus on the feel of his lips as they meet mine. I want to remember the taste of him, the way even his simplest movements make my skin tingle. But by the time I can actually comprehend what is happening, my shirt is already being tugged off and thrown to the floor.

I trail my own hands up his body, beginning at his hips and sliding up his shirt. I feel the muscle under my fingertips, constricting and releasing as he presses himself down into me. I allow my nails to dig into his back when he grinds his hips into mine, eliciting a soft gasp as well.

I'm almost in awe of how in-control he seems to be. My movements feel shaky and clumsy and inexperienced while his own are sure and deliberate and confident. I honestly have no idea what I'm doing and I can imagine Zacky doing this a million times. Okay, so maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration, but the principle is still there;  _I'm an amateur and Zacky is a pro_. 

And then I realize something; What if I'm not good enough? What if he compares me to all of the other guys he's been with and I suck at sex? What if...

Zacky leans back, straddling my waist still, but his kisses disappearing. He's breathing heavy. "What's wrong?" He asks.

I bite my lip, watching him closely. Swallowing hard, I avert my gaze, trying to look anywhere but at him. "I'm scared," I admit.

Zacky lifts a hand from where it rests on the mattress near my head, brushing a stray lock of hair out of my face, tucking it safely behind my ear. He waits until I finally shift my gaze back to him before he speaks. "We don't have to do this, Frankie." There's a reassuring smile on his face, but something deeper, a glimmer that seems to shine in his eyes, tells me that he really,  _really_  wants this to happen. And I do, too. Regardless of how bad I am, I know that it has to happen sooner or later. And what better way to lose my virginity than to Zacky Baker at a house party? 

I shake my head and my fingers slide across his abdomen. "I want to."

Zacky smiles down at me and lowers his lips back to mine. His movements are slower now, somewhat softer, as he trails his hand downward from my hair. My skin seems to burn where his fingers touch, leaving a trail of flaming flesh from my ear to my chest. He stops on my nipple, massaging it slowly with his thumb while his lips slide easily away from my own. His kisses move to my neck and I angle my head upwards to allow him a better angle. I tug up on his shirt, wanting it gone, and feel Zacky grin. He sits up, letting me pull the fabric up and over his head, tossing it to the floor. When he comes back down, his lips connect with my clavicle sending chills down my spine. He bites down, his teeth grazing the angular bone and making me gasp. My hips involuntarily buck up into him and he chuckles, making me feel self-conscious suddenly. Am I doing something wrong? 

Zacky seems to know exactly what I'm thinking and his tongue slips across my shoulder. "You're doing great, baby."

The byname makes my stomach flutter, butterflies ripping at the insides of me and driving me on. Zacky's lips trail down my chest, his tongue swirling around my nipple and going lower. My breath hitches when he starts unzipping my pants with his teeth. I watch him, my eyes wide and focused on his swift movements. It almost feels like it's not even happening, like this is some extravagant wet dream and I'm going to wake up any second, forced back into reality, alone in my bed with a raging boner. It's like I'm watching this happen to someone else.

But I don't wake up. Zacky doesn't disappear, his movements don't cease. Instead, I continue watching him, completely perplexed by the fact that  _this is actually happening_ , and in one small fraction of a second, the remainder of my clothes are gone. I'm completely exposed in front of Zacky, like I had daydreamed about so many times before, but in this moment I want nothing more than to cover myself up and cringe away from his steady gaze. 

I feel insecure and scared and horny and I want to close my eyes and hope I become invisible before he can come to his senses and laugh in my face. His eyes graze over my body, making me feel nervous. I never honestly thought this moment would come, being completely susceptible to rejection and weakness, showing literally all of myself in this way. But in this second, I feel like I've laid out every secret I've ever had, disclosed every thought and dream and fear I've experienced, making myself completely and utterly bare. I feel terrified that Zacky is seeing all of me in this way and I want nothing more than to hide myself from his scrutiny.

But Zacky doesn't seem to notice my introspection. He's focused on nothing more than my bare body, the physical attraction between us that is undeniably there. When he lowers his hand to stroke his cool fingers against my exposed erection, all of my thoughts disappear. Everything except the sensation his touch causes fades away and I suck in my bottom lip.

I find myself closing my eyes, bucking my hips upward, needing more than this simple contact. I need him inside of me. "Just... fuck me... Zacky." I gasp between panting breaths.

Zacky's touch disappears and I force my eyes open, wanting to see where he is. When my eyes land on him, I swallow hard. He's standing up at the end of the bed, grinning at me as he tugs his own jeans off.

Okay, I must be dreaming. That's the only way it seems possible that  _Zacky fucking Baker_  is standing in front of me, completely naked, about to shove his dick in my ass. It seems like too much, too soon, but I can't control it. I want him--  _need him_ \-- and, though I'm not sure I'm absolutely ready for this, I feel the need to please him. I want to make him feel the way he makes me feel. I want him to know about the butterflies in my stomach, the sweat that convenes on my palms, the way my brain seems to be wiped completely clean when he just walks by. I want to do this, for him and for me. 

Zacky smiles at me reassuringly. "You ready for this, baby?"

I swallow every word that seems to form in my throat, all of them catching and not seeming to find a way out. My hands find his hips once again, the way his body rubs against mine leaving me speechless.  _This is what I want. I'm ready_. But the words won't come out and I settle with a simple nod, letting Zacky and my own carnal instinct take over and do the rest.


	6. The Mighty Fall

_Holy damn, my back hurts_. The slight movement, just rolling over in the bed, makes pain shoot up my body, bringing with it a flood of memories.  _Last night. Zacky._  I find myself smiling, the images coming back to me and replaying across my closed eyelids. 

"Stop grinning. You look like an idiot. The least you could do is fully wake up first."

The voice makes me jump at first, panicking because  _WHO THE HELL IS IN MY ROOM WHILE I'M SLEEPING!?_ But by the second word, I recognize the voice as Mikey's and sigh heavily, keeping my eyes closed. "Last night..." I say, my voice fading off. My smile grows wider. I attempt to open my eyes, but the light burns them and I pull the blanket over my head. I shove one hand out from under the protective shield and point in the general direction of the single window in my bedroom. "Shut the damn curtains!" I exclaim. I can imagine Mikey rolling his eyes, but I hear him move across the room and slide the curtains closed. Hesitantly, I peek my head out from under the blankets, the black curtains now fending off the sunlight. Mikey cocks an eyebrow at me, one hand on his hip. Sometimes I swear  _he's_  the gay one. Not me. 

Slowly, I pull myself to a sitting position, wincing only once when pain moves up my back again. There's a dull pounding in my head, but it's easy enough to ignore. My thoughts are wandering elsewhere. I can see Zacky again in my mind, his face so close to mine as sweat beads on his forehead, his breath coming in short pants. I suck in a breath at the memory and bite down on my lip, making myself focus on Mikey. "Did my mom let you in?" I ask.

Mikey nods, pushing me over in the bed to make room for himself. I scoot over and he sits next to me. "I wanted to know how the party went. I figured you would be awake before two in the afternoon though."

My eyes widen at his comment and I hurry to grab my phone off the stand beside my bed. Turning it on, I realize he's right. It's already almost two-thirty. I rub the heel of my hand against my eyes. "Wow... Guess I was pretty exhausted when I got home."

_What time did I get home?_  I wonder absently. I remember Zacky driving me back home. He parked right outside the house, leaning over to kiss me once more and reassuring me for the twentieth time that I did great. It was when he actually started the penetration that I began crying, the pain seeming to course through my body in agonizing waves. It was only a few tears, but I still felt my self-esteem go down; I wasn't supposed to cry. The middle of sex was not the right time to get all teary-eyed. Zacky kept telling me, even on the way home, that I did fine, that it was normal to hurt, and that he understood. What time did all that happen? Three in the morning? Maybe later? I wasn't sure. I remember sneaking up the stairs, past my sleeping parents' bedroom, and then falling into bed. I didn't even bother changing so I probably smelled like eww and looked like gross. 

"So things went how you were hoping?" Mikey asks, though it sounds like he already knows the answer. 

I smile lightly and lower my head. I shrug, not really wanting to go into detail with Mikey. He was my best friend, sure, but I didn't want to tell him much past the fact that my virginity was no longer intact. "Yeah, I guess."

"I can tell." He states.

I roll my eyes. "How can you tell?" I ask, sarcasm heavy in my voice. "Were you watching? Do I look unvirginal?" I cringe at the word, wondering absently if it is actually a word... Unvirginal. Non-virgin-like? 

Mikey shakes his head, completely serious. "No. The hickeys gave you away."

My eyes widen once again and my breathing stops. "The  _what_!?" I demand. Like I said, I hadn't taken the time to change or even go to the bathroom. Seeing how horrible I looked in the mirror had been the last thing on my mind when I got home, but now it's the only thing I want. I jump out of the bed, ignoring the protesting aches in my body, and race down the hall to the bathroom. As soon as I'm in, I shut the door behind me, needing the privacy from my intrusive parents who could walk by at any moment.

My jaw drops open when I catch sight of my own reflection in the mirror. My hair is a tangled mess that looks like it will take a week to get a brush through. My lips look somewhat swollen, probably from all the activity last night that they were most certainly not used to. There's an array dark marks that speckle the pale flesh of my neck and throat. A few trail downward, hidden by the Anthrax shirt I still wear. I pull the fabric up and my jaw falls to the floor. I have to pick it back up and try to reattach it to the rest of my face before I can even breathe correctly again. More hickeys litter my chest, like a collection of impure trophies that remind me again of what happened last night. I pull the shirt up higher and reluctantly turn around. I crane my neck, attempting to see what my back looks like. I can see a few light pink scratches and actually smile, imagining the skin being clawed away by Zacky's fingernails as they scraped into me...

No. I stop the thought. Not now, dammit. No smiling. No retrospection. I have bigger issues. Like  _how the hell am I supposed to hide this from my parents_? I bite down on my tongue, turning back to stare at myself in the mirror. The scratches and hickey's beneath the shirt should be easy to conceal. But the ones that clutter my neck... Those might be a little harder to hide. 

I turn on the faucet, putting my hands under the cool water before splashing it onto my face. The iciness seems to make me relax a little, clearing my head and making me think straight. Do gay people think straight? Or do they think gay?  _Making me think gay_  doesn't have the same ring to it. I mentally slap myself and take a deep breath. I'm getting distracted. 

I grab a wash cloth, wetting it and dragging it across my eyes, trying-- and mostly failing-- to get the smeared eyeliner off. Damn water-proof makeup. It's like this stuff has superglue mixed in with the lead, making it nearly impossible to wash off. When I finally get the majority of the black liner scraped off, I toss the rag into the hamper and pull the bathroom door open merely an inch. I poke my head out into the hallway, my eyes scanning the empty space for any sign of my parents. When I see none, I throw the door open and flail back to my bedroom, shutting and locking that door behind me.

Mikey looks up, mildly amused, from where he still sits on my bed, picking at the frayed edges of hole in my Batman sheets. "So what are you gonna do?" He wanders, referring to the markings Zacky left on my neck. He knew just as well as I did that I had to keep them hidden from my parents. My mom and dad knew that I was going to a party last night, but I may have falsified a few minor details. Like the fact that there would be underage drinking and sex. I also told them that Mikey was going with me. And that there would only be a few people. If they saw that I had arrived home with hickeys, they wouldn't trust me anymore. Forget about getting a car or finishing my Sophomore year; They would never let me leave the house again, that is if they didn't kill me.

I raise a finger to steady it with Mikey. "You're gonna help me." I command.

He rolls his eyes and pushes himself off the bed. "Of course I am," He sighs. "What are best friends for?"

•••

"I'm never enlisting your help again." I narrow my eyes at Mikey in the mirror.

He crosses his arms across his chest, watching me and squinting his eyes right back. "This is the best I could do." He retorts. "Maybe if your boyfriend could keep his lips on your mouth, we wouldn't have this problem."

My stomach flutters when he refers to Zacky as my boyfriend and one corner of my mouth lifts up in a small smile. Mikey notices and rolls his eyes. I sigh, throwing up my hands in exasperation, and whip around to face him. "Okay, you have a point," I admit. "But hiding them with a turtle-neck? Really?"

Mikey shrugs. "It's covering them, isn't it?"

My nostrils flare and I jab an angry finger at my own chest. "Yes, but it is  _pink_."

Mikey smiles, clearly holding back a laugh. "It's the best I could do in fifteen minutes, okay?"

"Where did you even get a pink turtle-neck sweater?" I ask, tugging absently at the uncomfortable fabric that feels almost strangling around my neck. 

Mikey swats my hand away and fixes the shirt. "It's Gerard's." He tells me. I raise an eyebrow. I may not know a whole lot about Mikey's brother, but I've seen him enough to know that Gerard is not the pink turtle-neck type of guy. He's usually dressed in all black or band merch. This type of shirt doesn't really scream  _Gerard_  to me. Mikey sees my confusion and laughs. "I got it for him when he first came out as gay. It was just a joke. He's only worn it once."

I picture Gerard in my head wearing this sweater and can't help but smirk, the image seeming rather amusing. "Fine," I grunt. I wipe the back of my arm across my nose and the foreign scent fills my head. It smells like cigarette smoke and some cologne I've never smelled before. It's nice, really. I shrug, pulling the sleeves down to cover the backs of my hands, and sigh.

"Come on," Mikey says, nodding toward the door. "I'm hungry. Feed me."

I roll my eyes and follow him reluctantly out of the room. The kid lives two blocks away and he comes to my house to raid the fridge. Donna probably locks their fridge back at his house because I swear Mikey is a fat man trapped in the body of a lanky sixteen year old boy.

When we come into the kitchen, my dad is pouring himself a mug of coffee. He nearly drops the pot when he looks up and sees me sporting a fiery pink sweater. I quickly make my way to the refrigerator, taking cover behind the door and shielding myself from his line of sight. I grab the bag of bagels and toss them to Mikey, but remain buried in the fridge. The hickeys are thankfully hidden, but now how am I supposed to explain why I'm dressed the color of a flamingo.

"Frank?" I look up, seeing my mom watching me carefully.

"Yeah, Mom?" I ask. I feel fear building up inside of me. I glance at Mikey for some sort of help, but he's focused on the toaster, waiting for his bagel to pop up. 

I expect her to ask about my strange apparel and demand that I change, but she simply grabs the cell phone I had abandoned on the kitchen table, holding it out to me. "You got a message."

I sigh, relief flooding through me, and take the phone. "Thanks," I say quickly, but my stomach drops as soon as I force my shaky fingers to click on the awaiting text message. It's a number I don't recognize, but as my eyes scan the words, my heart flutters and I know exactly who it is.

_Meet me at the park in an hour. I wanna see you_ ;) _-Z.B_


	7. $e7en

I force myself to retain a neutral expression and not squeal like a fangirl that just met Austin Carlile, though let's face it; Austin Carlile is one hot piece of ass and even I would squeal if I met him. But that's beside the point. The point is, Zacky just texted me and asked me to meet him in an hour, which is in... I look at my phone to check when the message was sent and realize, with horror, that it was sent roughly 56 minutes ago.

"Mikey!" I exclaim.

The younger boy looks up, half of a bagel hanging loosely from between his lips. He makes a little "Hmm?" noise and I widen my eyes at him, sending him vibes that say ' _go along with this or I will stab you in your sleep_.' 

"I forgot... we have that... project to do." It sounds like a lie to even my own ears and I fight the urge to actually start banging my head against the refrigerator door.

Mikey, though, saves my ass and nods. "I totally forgot!" He lies so smoothly and I absently wonder if he's ever used this talent to deceive me. But I push the thought away and focus on pulling him out of the room, past my parents, and out of the house. I faintly hear my mother calling out a goodbye but shut the door halfway through the word. Mikey casually stuffs another bite of bagel into his mouth as we make our way down the walkway to the sidewalk. "Zacky texted?" He guesses.

I nod, stuffing my hands into my jean pockets, silently wishing that I would have grabbed a jacket as the cool air hits my skin. For being the middle of March, it seems so cold; Colder than the past few days have been, actually. But I guess that's just the typical abnormal weather in New Jersey. The weather here changes more than Snooki changes clothes. Usually, by now, the snow has all melted and the arriving buds of flowers make you sneeze and want to vomit a rainbow, but now it feels like icicles are already forming on the end of my nose.

Mikey walks with me to the end of the block before waving and we silently part ways. He turns one way, presumably to go back to his house and waste the next seven hours of his life playing Dungeons And Dragons, while I head in the opposite direction toward the park. I absently wonder what I'm going to spend the next few hours doing and a warm blush finds it's way onto my face, heating me up immediately.  _Bad Frank._  I try to banish the naughty images that are playing through my mind by the time I reach the park, but have no such luck. When I finally jump the fence at the edge of the soccer field, I'm having flashbacks from last night. Vivid, steamy, titillating flashbacks...

I make my way across the empty soccer field, dew settling on the grass in a solid layer that crunches as I move my feet. As I near the play area of the park, my eyes land on Zacky. His head is down as he pushes gently back and forth on the swing. He's facing away, but I can tell it's him. My heart skips a beat and I resist the urge to run over to and attack him. Sensually, that is. Not maliciously.

I do feel myself smile, however, and an extra pep falls into my step as I approach him. He doesn't move as I step up behind him, a grin spreading across my face, and wrap my arms around him. I feel him jump slightly in my grasp and laugh. He turns his head to face me and I rest my own on his shoulder. "You scared the shit out of me!" He exclaims and I only laugh again. My chuckling is abruptly brought to an end when Zacky's lips meet mine. My nerves flare up almost as much as my blush and I feel butterflies in my stomach, especially when he pulls away, smirking. "Come here." He grabs one of my hands and pulls me around so I'm standing in front of him, his legs wrapping around my waist. "Nice shirt," He comments and I glance down at myself. Oh shit. Yeah, I'm definitely still wearing a pink turtle-neck.

"It's not mine," I say quickly. "It's Gerard's."

Zacky raises an eyebrow, all humor disappearing from his face. "You're borrowing Gerard's clothes now?" I bite my lip against a smug smile. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that Zacky sounded jealous. Then again, I do know better; I know that Zacky doesn't get jealous. Or does he...? I knew he was never really the relationship type, but that was something that always attracted me to him. I thought that maybe I could change that about him. And, if this is jealousy that's lacing his words, I'm doing a pretty damn good job so far.

I cock my head to one side, watching him in amusement. "I wouldn't have to if  _someone_  didn't leave hickeys all over my neck."

Zacky hums a little in response, pulling at the fabric that covers the marks he left like a trophy on my body, tugging it down so he can see. I feel the tips of his fingers as they graze over the darkened skin, sending shivers down my spine. I hope like hell he can't feel my heartbeat quicken when he touches me. I don't think he notices. He simply mumbles, "You're cold." It's not a question, but I nod anyway. I can almost feel my lips turning purple as we stand-- well,  _I_  stand.  _He_  sits-- here. But somehow my skin still burns where his hands touch. Suddenly he pulls his eyes away from the hickeys to meet my own. "Come on."

He stands up and I feel his hand wrap around mine, leading me away from the swing that still moves in his absence. I don't ask where he's taking me, though hopefully it's somewhere with heat, simply let him drag me along beside him. He doesn't speak and neither do I. It's a cozy silence that hangs between us. When we've gone two blocks, though, the comfortable silence is broken when curiosity gets the best of me. "Where are we going?" I ask.

Zacky glances down at me and smirks. "Back to my house," He says. "I thought you could use a little heating up."

And when we finally reach his house, two more blocks later, things really do start  _heating up_. He leads me through the large front door, past a large living room, into a large kitchen. After getting me a RedBull, and cracking open one for himself, he takes me up the steep carpeted stairs, down a large hallway, into a large bedroom. I'm fairly amazed at how  _large_  everything is. It seems so much bigger than my own house, which is by no means small. Maybe it's just because when I'm around Zacky, I feel tiny. He's bigger than me physically, yes, but he's also much more confident. He's so aware of himself in a way that I could never imagine myself being. He makes his presence known while I'm content with blending in with the scenery. 

But when Zacky pulls me into his bedroom, I suddenly feel immensely aware of myself and the fact that he makes me feel bigger. The way he pushes me against the closed door, his lips rough on mine, makes me realize that I'm not as small as I feel. Of all the people Zacky could be with right now and he chose me. The hungry passion that burns inside of him rubs off on me when he starts tugging at my clothes, stripping the pink turtle-neck off first and tossing it away from us. It makes me feel special, like he needs me as much as he needs the air that comes in and out in panting breaths. I'm not small or meek, I'm actually something  _important_. 

I feel myself grin into the kiss at the thought and pull Zacky closer. I'm not exactly sure what I'm doing-- I'm still new to all of this-- and Zacky takes control, but I know the gist of things by now. I know when to slide my hand across the front of his expanding boxers. I know to buck my hips into his hand when his fingers wrap around my growing erection. I know how to position myself on his bed when he tells me to lay down. What's new to me is the feeling I get when I finally feel him slide his own body into mine; I expect the excruciating pain to shoot through me like it did the night before, or the numbness to wash over me before the pleasure. But none of that happens. It still hurts when he stretches me to fit around him but, after just one time, I feel like I've grown accustomed to his body. The ache is a dull one that subsides easily, immediately replaced with the pure ecstasy that rolls in waves through my veins. With him inside of me, I feel complete somehow. Like he's the missing piece to my puzzle. Oh god, that's a horrible puzzle; Dick in ass-- Where does this piece go?

Oh god, nope. Done with that imagery. My thoughts fade out, thankfully, my mind going blank when I release. In that moment, there is nothing more than me and Zacky. There's no homophobic dad, no worry about just being part of the scenery, no intrusive best friend, and no pink turtle-neck. There's no hiding, no concerns, no secrets. I put myself out, once again, for Zacky to see and he did the same for me.

I curl up next to him, pulling the sheet up to cover both of our bodies, though I would much rather stare at his, but I think that's eye-raping so I probably shouldn't do that. I feel Zacky's arm around my shoulders and lay my head on his chest, now coated with a sheen layer of sweat and maybe just a little bit of cum, but I don't mind. 

"Are you still cold?" He asks, tightening his arm around me.

I shake my head. "No," I say. "I'm perfect." And I feel like I am. Not just my temperature, but everything. In this moment, everything is perfect. 


	8. viii

Monday morning finally rolls around and I'm running late to first period. I'm shoving books into my locker, watching hopelessly as three journals and about a billion loose papers come tumbling to the floor. I let my head roll back, groaning, before dropping to my knees and trying to situate the pile of papers into a neat stack. When that fails, I settle with crumpling them up and just shoving them back into the metal confines of the already messy locker. I make a mental note to clean that crap out later, but who am I kidding? It's going to stay a mess until the very last day of school and I throw it all away without even a second glance. It happens every year.

I try to push my English textbook in between the wall and a few journals, pulling my Bio textbook out in the same movement and attempting to avoid another paper avalanche. I glance at the clock, the second hand ticking quickly, taunting me because I'm going to be late to first period at this rate. I finally get my Bio book free and push my locker closed, spinning around, completely prepared to bolt down the hall, when I run directly into Zacky.

He laughs, steadying me before I can fall back into the lockers. "You in a hurry?" He asks.

My heart stops. At this rate, Zacky was going to give me a heart attack before our second date.  _Was the party even considered a first date? Or meeting him at the park? We fucked. Did that automatically make them dates, or just sex sessions? Did Zacky even want to date me? What if he didn't like me? Well clearly he likes me enough to fuck, but that meant practically nothing. What if that's all this was to him?_

I realize I've been staring at him awkwardly through my entire introspection, him watching me in amusement. "Yeah, actually." I force myself to say, focusing back on his question. I glance at the clock again and see that I now have less than a minute to get to Biology. I want so badly to stay here and talk to Zacky, but know that I can't be late again. "Benson says that if I'm late to class again, he's gonna make me clean Einstein's cage."

Einstein was Mr. Benson's pet tarantula. The giant spider scared the shit out of me and everyone knew it. The evil science teacher thought it would be hilarious to threaten me with cleaning out the spider's terrarium next time I was late to his class. And, no matter how much I wanted to see Zacky, I was not willing to touch that damn spider or his disgusting home. 

Luckily, Zacky understands and simply chuckles. "Run," He suggests and bites his lip, the simple motion making me feel all hot and bothered in places that should really not be mentioned on school property. "I'll see you later."

I nod and then take off down the hall. I stumble into class, literally tripping over my own clumsy feet and falling into the room, just as the bell rings. "I made it!" I exclaim, clambering to my feet and racing to my usual seat in the back of the room.

Mr. Benson raises one gray eyebrow as I pull out the lab stool, the metal screeching along the tile floor, before I sit and cross my hands on top of the table. I smile slightly, mentally begging him not to make me touch the freaking spider. He simply sighs, standing up and walking over to the board at the front of the room. He picks up a single piece of white chalk and begins scribbling notes down in his messy handwriting. A round of groans goes through the classroom as everyone pulls out their own paper and we begin copying his words.

"Today, we're continuing on the anatomical make-up of different species. Namely human." Benson turns to face the class, pointing to the three bullet points he has written on the chalkboard. "We'll be focusing this week on the three listed here; The reproductive system, chromosomal count, and sex determination." He scans the class quickly before stopping on a girl near the front. "Julian," He says, clasping his hands together in front of him. "Can you explain to me the difference between men and women?"

I keep my eyes down turned, focusing on the journal splayed out in front of me. I make sure that my blue pen is constantly moving; If it looks like I'm actually taking notes, he won't call on me to answer a question I don't even understand. I hope, at least. I allow my mind to wander, Mr. Benson's usually grating voice actually making me fall deeper into thought with the calming monotone. 

My thoughts almost immediately focus on Zacky, my contemplation from seeing him in the hall coming back to me. I like Zacky. Obviously. I've only had the biggest crush on him for the past year. And, somehow through the blatant awkwardness and near panic attack he caused in me every time he walked by, he seemed to actually like me back. I mean, we had already  _done it_. TWICE. ' _Still,_ ' My mind says in an annoyingly pessimistic voice. ' _That doesn't mean he likes you. He could be using you._ ' I mentally punch that little voice in his imaginary face and rest my elbow on the hard table, my cheek settling on my fisted hand. I find my mind wandering...

_Mr. Benson's voice drones in his usual nasally tone, words seeming jumbled together in phrases I could never in a million years hope to pronounce. Suddenly, the shrill sound of the fire alarm rings out in the classroom, jerking everyone out of their educational daze to the hazard at hand.  "Alright, everyone." Benson shouts over the blaring alarm, clapping his hands to draw the class' attention to him. "It's just a drill. You know what to do. Come on. No talking."_

_Regardless of his instructions, the class buzzes with voices as we shuffle from the classroom out into the crowded halls. It's like a wave of students, all surging toward the exit in a hurry to escape the containment of the school. I fall in line, being pushed and pulled along, until I feel a hand wrap around my wrist. I look up, my eyes landing on Zacky. There's a devilish gleam in his eyes as they sparkle an abnormally bright green. "Come on," Is all he says and then I'm being pulled through the crowd, back farther into the school. I want to protest, but feel the logical side of my brain dissolving when he pulls me into a now vacant classroom and shuts the door. I don't have time to ask what he's doing before he pins me against the wall and kisses me fiercely. That only lasts a moment before he pulls away, bringing me with him. He swipes one arm across the teacher's hard wooden desk, clearing it of any piled papers or random teacherly objects. He grins down at me and I feel my heart pounding painfully against my chest in anticipation and thrill. Zacky wraps his arms around me, lifting me off the ground and sitting me on the desk before his lips meet my neck. "God, you're so fucking beautiful, Frankie." He moans into my skin. I feel his hands all over me, pulling at my shirt and jeans and then grazing against bare flesh. My breathing quickens as he finally settles the palm of his hand on my enlarging lap, pulling slowly at the zipper..._

"Mr. Iero!" My head snaps up and I look around quickly, taking notice of my current surroundings. Dammit... I was daydreaming in class again. I swallow hard, hoping like hell I didn't say anything out loud. That would be awkward. But Mr. Benson simply looks at me, only a small amount of irritation in his expression. "You seem to be taking quite a few notes. Maybe you can answer my question." Oh shit... I look down at my journal, the page now covered in an array of indecipherable squiggly lines, some random hearts, and a stick figure beating another stick figure with his own severed limbs. I look back up at Mr. Benson quickly. "How many chromosomes do you have, Frank?" He asks. 

"Umm..." Well fuck. What the hell is a chromosome? Is that like a fancy name for my arm? Some part of my brain? We're learning about brains, right? "Four and a half!" I blurt out, hoping I'm at least somewhat right.

Mr. Benson sighs. "Close," He says before shaking his head in disappointment. "Each cell of your body contains forty-six chromosomes." He shoots me a warning look and I cower back a little. "Pay attention." Mr. Benson paces the front of the room, watching his feet as he talks. I swear, I think he hates kids. But who becomes a teacher if they hate kids? That's like becoming a ventriloquist if you hate dolls. How the fuck does that even happen?

I force myself to focus back on Benson, trying to actually listen to his words. "Twenty-three pairs of chromosomes are in each cell. Twenty-two of said pairs are called autosomes, which are found the same in both women and men. The twenty-third pair, called sex-chromosomes, determine whether you will be male or female." He writes a few letters on the board, pointing to each in turn as he speaks. "A woman's cell will contain XX chromosomes. A man will have XY."

The girl who was originally called on at the beginning of class raises her hand. Benson nods at her, silently telling her to speak. "What if someone has more than two sex chromosomes?"

Benson nods slowly and writes a few more letters on the board. "XXY chromosomes are possible to obtain," He explains. "People with XXY chromosomes are called intersex, containing the anatomical make-up of both male and female genders."

"And if they have more than three?" The girl, Julian asks.

Benson simply shakes his head. "Impossible," He states matter-of-factly. "If someone were to have more than three sex chromosomes, they would be dead."

I write the letters down with the rest of my notes, scribbling down a small explanation, before turning the X's into angry stick figures that are searching for their heads. Just as I'm adding a vulgar quote bubble, the bell rings and everyone stands up. I gather my things, shoving the journal into my backpack and grabbing my textbook before shuffling with the rest of the students out of the classroom. As I step out of the room, I hear a familiar voice.

"Hey," Zacky steps up beside me, smiling, and reaches for my hand. My heart slams against my chest at the simple action and I feel myself smile back.

"Hi," I say. I bite my lip nervously before blurting out, "What are you doing here?"

Zacky looks around us, like he's checking he's in the right place. "Well, I do go to school here." He says.

I roll my eyes, letting him pull me through the hall toward my locker. "I meant outside of my Biology class, smartass."

Zacky laughs. "What? I can't walk my boyfriend to his locker?"

My body freezes. I stop walking in the middle of the hallway, probably causing a pile up of scurrying students behind us, but my mind and body just quit working, refusing to move. Did Zacky just refer to me as his boyfriend? I fight the urge to squeal in a rather feminine way and tackle him in a hug. Instead, I simply stare at him with wide eyes, wondering if I misheard him.

Zacky stops, too. After a second, he looks worried. "Did I do something wrong?" He bites down on his lip and his hand drops my own like I've suddenly caught fire. "I came on too strong, didn't I?" He asks quickly. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that you were my boyfriend or anything. I  _want_  you to be my boyfriend, but I'm cool with it if you just--"

I cut him off when I stand up on my tip-toes and press my lips to his, grabbing his hand back in mine. I pull back, grinning. "You're so cute when you ramble." I comment. 

Zacky laughs softly. "Does that mean you accept?"

I turn away, pursing my lips and dragging him down the hall toward my locker. "Accept what?" I ask, though I know exactly what he means. I want to hear those words come out of his mouth. I need to hear him say what I know he's already thinking.

Zacky groans, a rather attractive sound. "Don't make me say it."

I shrug, dropping his hand just as we reach my locker. Before I even have the chance to put in the combination, Zacky grabs onto me, spinning me around and pressing my back flat against the metal and attaching his lips to mine. He leans back only slightly after a second, his forehead resting against mine. His voice is low when he speaks, seduction evident in the tone. He smiles down at me. "Will you be my boyfriend, Frank?"

I can't help the grin that spreads across my face, the cockiness surfacing once again. I simply kiss him once again. "It's about fucking time you asked."


	9. nine. Nine. NINE!

I feel eyes boring into my back and try to restrain myself from turning around and scanning the room for whoever was watching me. But I had a feeling it was more than just one someone. So I keep my head down, my fork poking absently at the salad on the tray in front of me. The voices buzz through the crowded cafeteria and I have nagging feeling that they're all talking about me. Am I just being conceited? Probably. But the feeling is still there...

Finally, I sigh, looking up at Mikey from across the table. "Why does it feel like everyone's watching me?" I demand.

Mikey's eyes scan the space behind me, my back to the majority of the cafeteria. He swallows a bite of his mystery meat-- mystery meat? Couldn't they at least tell us what the lumpy deformed mass of grossness they fed us was? And people honestly wonder why I refuse to eat meat... Come on. Do they even know what the hell they're eating? I think not.-- before looking back to the table and laughing. "Because they  _are_  watching you."

I become self-conscious all of a sudden and my body tenses up. I try to see from the corner of my eye, but only succeed in seeing the few people who share the table with Mikey and I. Matt, Josh, and Andrew. And I knew all of them better than to assume they watch me creepily and whisper about me behind my back.

_Matt Sanders_. He's been my friend the longest, aside from Mikey. I met him in seventh grade when he first moved to Belleville from some bumfuck town in Kentucky. I remember first seeing him, sitting in my seat when I came into class the first day. I had walked right up to him and said, "Yo. Bitch-tits. That's my seat." Matt had stood up, called me a cunt, and then stepped on my foot. I saw it as a sign of affection from the new kid and we became friends. He doesn't talk much, just sits back and observes. Mikey and I started calling him Matt Shadows because he was always just kind of there, not saying anything. A lot of people found it creepy, the way he didn't talk or move, just stared into space, lost in his own thoughts, but I loved that he was always so chill.

_Josh Ramsay_. The expressive kid that I met in detention my eighth grade year. He was always drawing or writing something, and he starred in just about every play the school or any surrounding community center put on. The teacher had stepped out of the room, claiming to be going to the restroom, but we all knew she was dying for a cigarette and would smoke half a pack before coming back in. There were only three of us and one kid had fallen asleep, in danger of falling out of the chair in the back of the room, so I turned to Josh instead. I asked him why he was in detention and he said, "I pierced my tongue with a safety pin in the middle of art class." When he spoke, I caught sight of the small metal attachment that glimmered and seemed almost mesmerizing to watch. "Nobody would have cared, except it started bleeding and got all over my final project." To this day, though, he still has the piercing.

_Andrew Volpe_. I'm not really sure how I became friends with Andrew. One day, last year, he randomly appeared at our lunch table and I just kind of accepted it. I'm pretty sure Matt asked him to sit with us, which is kind of weird since Matt doesn't talk to anyone outside of our little group. And Andrew is so different from Matt. Andrew talks to everyone. He's a chipper little spit-fuck, constantly babbling on happily about random things. He's a nerd, I'll admit, but in an adorable kind of way. Normally, he'll just talk to Matt, even if it seems like Matt isn't listening. But I think Matt likes him. Hell, it's impossible to not like the kid, even if he is a tad bit overwhelming at times. 

It's an odd group we have here, but I don't mind. We all seem so different and so similar at the same time. And, as of right now, they're the only people who aren't gawking at me like I've just grown an extra arm.

At that moment, Josh slides over on the bench seat, coming so close his shoulder bumps mine. On the other side of the table, Matt and Andrew slide toward us as well. "So," Josh says. He's grinning from ear to ear and I groan internally. "Is it true about you and Zacky?"

I pick up my fork, turning my attention back to my salad. I shrug. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Josh just shakes his head, hearing the lie clearly in my voice. "You know exactly what I mean." He accuses. When I don't answer he nudges me. "It's true! You totally did it."

"Did what?" Andrew asks. Oh poor, innocent, naive Andrew... "What did you do?"

I roll my eyes, stuffing another bite of food into my mouth, letting Josh answer instead. "Our little Frankie here got him a piece of Zacky Baker." It almost makes me cringe, how proud Josh sounds of me. 

Andrew shakes his head, still not understanding. "I don't get it..." He says and I resist the urge to face-palm. How obvious does this kid need it to be?

Josh sighs exasperated while Matt just chuckles silently. "They fucked, Andrew!" Josh nearly yells and I begin choking on my food. Well then. Way to be subtle. I drop my fork and wrap both of my arms around Josh's head, making sure my bicep is covering his mouth so he isn't able to scream it any louder. I feel a blush now covering my face.

"Wow, thanks for keeping that just between the five of us, Josh." I mutter.

Josh squirms out of my grip, holding up a slim finger. "Watch the hair, bitch!" He brushes his blue bangs across his forehead. "It's not really a secret anyway," He laughs. "The whole school knows by now."

"Knows what?" A tray slides onto the table to my left and the empty space next to me is claimed by Bert McCracken. Across from him, Gerard sits next to Mikey.

"That Frank got boned by Zacky Baker," Josh replies casually, flipping some hair out of his face and focusing on intently poking his lunch.

Well, this just got fucking awkward. I feel the urge to beat my head against the table until I pass out but I feel Bert's hand come down on my back. "Congrats, midget." He laughs.

I feel my face go bright red for a multitude of reasons. First reason; I hate it when people insult my height. It's not my fault I never grew past 5'4. I keep telling myself that I'll hit another growth spurt within the next year, but I know it's not going to happen. I'm going to be short forever. Second reason; I do not want everyone to know the crude details of my sex life. It is supposed to be private for a reason. Why does Bert care anyway?

Bert McCracken is a loud, over-hyper, sometimes obnoxious Senior. The only reason I even know him is because he's Gerard's best friend. He's been over at the Way's house a few times while I was there, but that's about as far as our relationship goes. This seating arrangement, even adding Gerard to our socially-awkward group of misfits, is new to me. Usually they sit alone, a solitary table just for them in the corner of the room. So why the hell are they deciding to sit with us now? 

I glance at Gerard, hoping to see the answer written on a post-it note on his forehead or something, but he's just quietly watching his food. His head is low so I can't really make out the features of his face as he prods absently at the overcooked peas.

I find myself intrigued by him. I've never really looked at Gerard before. Clearly I've seen him; He gives me a ride home some days and I've stayed at his house almost as much as I stay at my own. But I don't think we've ever had a real conversation. Now, I feel kind of fascinated by him. His unnaturally black hair falls down over his face, masking his features with a dark shadow. His hand rests on the gray table, his fingers tapping nervously. His nails are bitten down to small nubs but they still make a small click each time they hit the plastic surface. He bites his bottom lip between tiny white teeth, the skin of his lips seeming raw and peeled away. 

A hand appears in my line of sight, Josh's painted black fingernails making me pull back as he snaps. "Hello?" He says. "Earth to Frank? Anybody in there?"

"Huh?" I look around the table and realize that I've zoned out watching Gerard.  _Wow Frank, way to be a creeper_.

Josh sighs, rolling his eyes. "I said, your boyfriend is heading this way." He nods toward the open cafeteria doors and I turn to see Zacky scanning the room. His eyes land on me after a second and he smiles. He nods at me once before making a beeline in my direction. I turn back to the table, suddenly nervous. Everyone watches me in anticipation and I try to avoid direct eye contact. But my eyes meet Gerard's. This time, his head is up, his gaze intent on me, his hazel eyes seeming almost piercing. But, just as quick, he looks away.

I feel arms around my waist and involuntarily smile. "Hey," Zacky purrs in my ear. "I wanted to eat lunch with you, but I see you're almost done."

I nod. "Where were you?" I wonder.

"Oh, umm..." He clears his throat and shakes his head. "I had to make up a test for Peters. It was nothing." He lowers his voice and I feel his lips as he drags them across my neck. "I'm about to get out of here for the day. You care to join me?" 

The seduction in his voice seems so alluring, I forget that we're in the middle of the cafeteria with everyone, not just the six other people at this table, watching us. I just nod. Hell yes I want to join him.

"Uh, Frank?" Mikey speaks up. "Are you forgetting we still have four classes left? And a major test in Algebra?"

Damn you Mikey Way and your consideration for my education. I groan, letting my head fall forward. I did in fact forget. But Zacky...

I turn my head to Zacky and bite down on my lip. "Mikey's right," I say, dejected. "I gotta stay here."

Zacky nods and kisses me quickly. "Later then," He promises and the simple vow is enough to make my stomach flutter. He turns away and saunters out of the cafeteria which now seems eerily quiet. I awkwardly pick up my fork and finish shoveling the food into my mouth, avoiding the gaze of everyone at the table. Slowly, conversations pick back up across the room and talk of me is a thing of the past. I sigh, dropping my head and letting the low buzz of voices fill my ears. 


	10. Chapter Ten!!!

It turns out that Josh was wrong; The whole school didn't know about mine and Zacky's little escapade. On Monday, at least...

By Wednesday, there were rumors floating around about us, some of which I heard myself while Mikey and the others filled me in on what was being said behind my back. The most popular rumor, by far, had to be the one where Zacky had an ongoing bet with someone unknown. The bet was supposedly this; How many times can Zacky Baker bang Frank until Frank finds out about the bet? 

When I first heard it, about a week after Zacky officially asked me to be his boyfriend, I brushed it off as nothing more than gossip. I heard a few people crowded around the water fountain outside the boys bathroom talking about it, laughing like a pack of hyenas at my own expense. It felt weird, hearing people whisper my name like I wasn't three feet away, separated by nothing but a two inch thick wooden door.

It shocked me when I heard my name through the barrier and froze, listening. I wasn't invisible to people, I just wasn't gossip-worthy. Until that night with Zacky, apparently. Since that one night, and a few since then, people had suddenly discovered my existence and decided that I was now deserving of their whispered fabrications. I'll admit it; For a second, I was ecstatic. People were talking about me without knowing of my knowledge of their words. I was suddenly  _someone_. I was worthy of their rumor-spreading habits and I didn't care what the lie they were developing was; I just cared that it was about me. And then I actually listened to what they were saying. 

"Frank is bound to find out sooner or later," One kid was saying. I didn't know who it was, as I stayed hidden inside the bathroom. "What's Zacky gonna do then?"

"Revel in the fact that he got laid twenty times before the fucker even realized Zacky doesn't actually care about him," Someone else suggested in a dull tone.

A few kids laughed and I swallowed hard, pressing closer to the bathroom door to hear. "How long do you think it will take Frank to find out it was just a bet?"

There were a few grumbled responses, most not even full words, and I imagined them all shrugging before another single laugh cut through. "Probably way too fucking long. I almost feel bad for the kid. But hey; He got to fuck Zacky Baker. He's a lucky little bitch. Even if he is getting screwed in more ways than he realizes."

My mouth felt dry suddenly as the words shook me to the core, reverberating through my head even when their voices had faded off away down the hall.

A bet? That's all it was? A small part of my brain, the daunting part that hates me very much, kept telling me that it was true, that I deserved being screwed over, and that I should have seen this coming. It was obvious, if I actually thought about it; How else could I explain that Zacky suddenly seemed into me? I didn't like thinking about it.

Another part of my brain was denying the whole thing; It was just a rumor and that was all. Zacky cared about me. Why else would he ask me to be his boyfriend? If he just wanted the sex and nothing more, then he could have said that. Why put me through the extra torture of pretending to care and then tell me it was a bet? Zacky could be an asshole, but he wouldn't do that to me.

_He wouldn't_.

Still, the idea remained there, prickling the back of my mind in irritation. What if everything Zacky told me was a lie? Everything on the first night, about wanting to be with me when he could be with Synyster, could be a lie.  _Synyster_...

What if Synyster was the unknown person that Zacky had made the bet with? What if they watched me when they thought I wasn't looking, snickering behind my back at how much of a fool I was?

I tried to keep the thoughts at bay, needing to keep my mind clear of the unwanted doubts when Zacky never even gave me a reason to not trust him. It was all speculation-- dirty rumors that were started by the little shits that I called my peers. Zacky never treated me like a bet; He treated me like a boyfriend. And I hated myself for doubting him.

I don't know when the doubt became distrust, but it did so quickly. Suddenly, I wasn't just doubting the credibility of our relationship, but his faithfulness to it. The rumors all seemed to mesh together and become one big ball of lies and I didn't know what I believed anymore.

The doubt would crash like a wave at the most inopportune times and the guilt it dragged with it was even worse. Every morning when I arrived at school, Zacky would be perched near my locker, a small smile in place.  _What if he was just playing the part of caring boyfriend and he was secretly wishing it would be Synyster coming through the doors instead of me?_  He would wait patiently for me to pull out some textbooks, replacing them with others, before taking my hand in his and walking me to class. As we made our way down the narrow hallway, each day seeming to grow smaller and smaller around us, I felt more doubt.  _What if he was watching Synyster as we passed?_  I found myself constantly glancing up at him to make sure his eyes weren't focused on anyone else, most of the time to find him watching either straight ahead or down at me. The guilt would settle in when he left me in the Biology room doorway, kissing me and grinning, before racing to his own class. 

I felt horrible, not being able to trust Zacky when he had never given me reason not to. He had been nothing but amazing and here I was; mindlessly scribbling illegible notes down in a class I didn't even like, my thoughts focused on a boyfriend I didn't even trust, biting a second hole through my lip. 

It was even worse when we were alone. My mind seemed to buzz with worry when I should be focused on nothing more than the feel of his hand as they pressed our hips together. It was the same every time; I could feel his touch like fire on my skin, passion and urge racing through him, but it was thoughtless work when he did basically everything for me. He peeled my clothes off, he pushed me back onto the bed, he prepared my body-- All I did was let out a soft moan to let him know when it felt good. He did the rest. And I couldn't help the things that filled my head. 

His lips dragged across my jaw.  _Who else have those lips touched?_  His hands roamed over my stomach, his fingers pulling my belt loops before pressing me down into the mattress.  _How many other people have been right here? How recent? The bed was already a mess of tangled blankets when I'd been dragged into the room... Did he have someone else in here before me?_  The thought almost made me feel sick. 

Of course, my doubt only faded when he leaned into me, his lips against my neck as our bodies rocked in unison, letting out a shaky moan. "Frankie..." That's all it took for me to realize that I was being ridiculous; Zacky would not lie to me. About anything. He wasn't dating me because of some bet. He was not cheating on me. He was here with me for the same reason I was with him; We cared about each other. Everyone else was merely jealous. The rumors and the whispered names were proof of that jealousy. Zacky was here, with me, closer than anyone had ever been before. Not because of a bet, but because he wanted to be. That one simple moaned word showed me everything I needed to know and, even with my eyes closed, I could see the effect it had on me. My body tensed and then released, shaking and sweating and panting and letting a single curse word roll off of my tongue at the pleasure, both physical and mental, he made me feel. 

But, just like always, that feeling was about to come crashing down around me. Hard. I felt ecstatic on Monday morning after a long weekend with Zacky. It had been three weeks of divinity, spending time with my  _boyfriend_ \-- I still giggled like a fangirl when I thought of Zacky like that-- and it seemed like nothing could bring me down from cloud nine... Until I got a pass during seventh period to go to the bathroom. 

I was just zipping up my jeans, about to flush, when I heard the hushed voices from outside the stall door and stopped.

"You do it and I fucking swear..." I could place the voice immediately, the familiar softness in Zacky's tone now replaced with venom.

I hear a short laugh, not like a HAHAHA YOU JUST TICKLED MY FANCY kind of laugh. More like a cocky asshole kind of laugh, but it wasn't Zacky. That much was obvious, though the person it belonged to was still a mystery to me. I feel the urge to swing the stall door open and see what's going on, but the logical part of my brain keeps me motionless and quiet, simply listening. "What are you gonna do, Zacky?" The mystery voice says, seeming only vaguely familiar. "You'll kick my ass? Big deal. He deserves to know."

"He doesn't need to know shit," Zacky snaps. I hear a sound like something hits the door a few stalls down, shaking the entire metal frame, and jump. Zacky's voice drops, losing only a small amount of the anger, taking on a softer edge. "Think about it; What good will it do? It's not gonna get him into  _your_  bed any faster, Way."

"It's not like that!" Mystery voice says defensively. Wait... Did Zacky call him Way? As in  _Mikey_? "You're just hurting him." No, that voice is definitely not Mikey.  _Way..._

And then it hits me, just as Zacky speaks again.

"And what will happen if you tell him?" He asks softly. "He's happy, Gerard. Look at him. Don't ruin that. Just stay away from him."

Gerard falls silent and I hold my breath, waiting for something big to happen. Some punches to be thrown, some angry words to be exchanged. But nothing happens. I hear footsteps as they shuffle quietly out of the room and I'm left alone, heaving a huge sigh.

Doubt swells up inside of me again and I swallow hard. I rub the back of my hand across my eyes, suddenly feeling exhausted. I push the stall door open, going to the sink and watching my own pale reflection in the dirty mirror. They were talking about the rumor. They had to be. But if Zacky was getting that defensive, it wasn't just a rumor... Why would he be so angry if it was just gossip?

My head starts pounding and I push a shaky finger into my temple, getting it to settle into a dull ache. I double forward, feeling sick to my stomach, and my chest seems to rush with pain. I get to the toilet just in time to chuck up my lunch, hugging the porcelain tighter than needed to my chest and wishing that the simple pressure could fix the hurt that my heart feels as well.


	11. E.L.E.V.E.N

When I finally pull myself away from cuddle time with a toilet and manage to stand up without falling over again, I stagger toward the sink once more. I turn on the cold water and cup my hands under the stream, bringing it up and letting it cover my face. I want to stay there forever, my mouth and nose submerged in the makeshift bowl. Not just because the cool water makes my head clear a little, but because of the peacefulness that washes over me. I don't want to have to think about what Zacky may or may not be doing behind my back. I don't want to deal with rumors and Gerard-- What the hell did he care, anyway? It's not like we were exactly friends. Sure, he was nice, but he was more of a simple acquaintance. Why would he care if Zacky was using me? Maybe he was just a genuinely nice person. Maybe it was just in his nature to be concerned. I didn't know and, at this moment, I didn't really care.

I only pull my face out of the water, letting it drain from my hands and back into the sink, when I feel my lungs stinging from lack of use. I cough once, a few drops of the water spewing onto the mirror, but avoid the vanity and grab a crisp brown towel instead. Drying my face off, I feel the nausea again. I stand there for a moment, halfway turned back to the toilet, before it fades away and I decide I should probably leave.

I spend the rest of the day, only two more periods, in the nurses office. Nurse Zimmerman glances up as I come in, raising an eyebrow. I probably look like shit, face pale and hair disheveled. She makes a gesture toward the mud colored cot and I lay down as she silently stands up and searches the various cabinets for a thermometer. Sticking it under my tongue, she stands back, one hand fisted on her hip, watching me. When the small object finally beeps, she pulls it out and clicks her tongue.

"Normal," She informs me. "But you don't look so well." She narrows her eyes in appraisal before saying, "Should I call your mother?"

Miss Zimmerman knows better than anyone of my poor health. Not a week went by that I didn't come into her office and ask for something, whether it was aspirin or a trip to the emergency room. She would always roll her eyes in disapproval, but I knew that she secretly liked me, even if she pretended to be annoyed when I came to her.

I shake my head, focusing back on her question. "No, can I just stay here until school's out?"

She nods and makes her way back to the desk positioned in the corner of the small room. I allow my eyes to close, my stomach starting to settle and my mind going, thankfully, blank as unconsciousness overtakes me. 

I wake to someone poking my cheek. I groan, swatting at whoever's hand was all up in my personal space without opening my eyes.

"Come on, Frank," Miss Zimmerman's voice says in exaggerated exasperation. "The last bell just rang."

I sit up groggily at her words, squinting against the bright light of the white room. I mutter something incoherent and glance at the clock, seeing that she was right; I was free to go home. I grab my backpack off the floor beside me and make my move for the door, waving sleepily once and mumble a "Thanks."

When I get to the main hallway, I realize most of the students are clearing out, making it easy to spot Zacky waiting near my locker. He bites his lip silently, raising one hand to rub it across the back of his neck. I have to avert my eyes, telling myself that I'm supposed to be pissed at him, not checking him out. I open my locker without a word and he turns to me. "You weren't in your last period." Not a question. He had been waiting for me. I feel a small amount of satisfaction imagining that, but just nod in agreement. "Where were you?" He wonders.

"Nurses office." I state, focusing my attention on deciding what books I need to take home.

"Why?" He asks, this time concern leaking into his voice, which actually kind of surprises me. "Are you okay?"

"Yep." I don't elaborate, not bothering to answer the first question. The pissed attitude seems to be coming easily without looking at him.

Before he has a chance to respond, Mikey appears at my other side, his shoulder bumping into mine. He motions with his head toward the general direction of the parking lot. "Gerard can take you home today," He says and I smile, nodding at him quickly before he shoots Zacky a weird look and nearly sprints toward the exit. Okay, so it wasn't sprinting. It wasn't even running. Or jogging. He just moves inhumanly fast because of his freakishly long legs.

I turn to follow him, getting a few steps before Zacky appears right beside me. "You don't seem okay." He states. "Are you mad at me, Frank?" I ignore him, hitching my backpack up farther and mentally cursing myself for grabbing textbooks I probably wouldn't even open tonight. "Hey," Zacky says and I feel his hand wrap around my arm, tugging me to a stop. I roll my eyes, finally facing him. I wait for him to say something more but, when he opens his mouth, nothing comes out. I raise an eyebrow, silently coaxing him to continue. Finally he sighs. "Let me take you home, okay?"

"No, thanks." I mutter and turn around, only to be stopped again. I whip around to glare at him. "I don't want a fucking ride from you." I demand. "Let go. Gerard will take me home."

Zacky looks shocked, his brows raising and his mouth opening a little, but his grip disappears. I get a few more feet before I feel Zacky at my shoulder, this time fighting the urge to kick him in the nards. I simply sigh heavily, picking up my pace. Zacky keeps it easily. "Why are you so pissed at me all of a sudden?" He pleads. "Just talk to me, please."

I bite my lip and come to a sudden halt. He nearly runs directly into me, luckily keeping a safe distance. If he were actually touching me, I don't think I'd be able to do this. Looking at him was confusing me enough. "You want to know why I'm mad?" I say, fighting to make my words sound harsh and almost succeeding. "Because I heard you talking to Gerard in the bathroom today."

Zacky's face immediately pales and I shake my head, hurrying on before he can say anything. "I can't believe I was fucking stupid enough to trust you. You are a complete asshole, Zacky." I let out a small laugh. "It was all just a fucking bet. Well, I hope you won." I swallow hard, grinding my teeth together. "You definitely had me thinking you actually cared."

Zacky is shaking his head, not understanding. "Wait... What bet?" And the tone of his voice makes me freeze. He honestly sounds like he has no idea what I'm talking about. "How much did you hear?"

I suck in a breath and shrug. The anger in me has basically defused and I'm left feeling hopeless. "I heard you threaten him. He said he was going to tell me and you obviously didn't want that. You told him to stay away from me."

His green eyes search mine for a second. "Did you hear  _what_  he was going to tell you?" He asks.

I hesitate before shaking my head no. I never did hear what they were actually talking about, I just assumed it was the rumor. 

Zacky reaches out a hand to my face, but thinks better of it before he touches me, and puts it back to his side. He sighs. "I found out Gerard likes you," He admits. "Likes you... As more than a friend." I bite my lip, letting the words sink in. Zacky lifts one shoulder in a small shrug, averting his eyes nervously. "I got jealous. He was going to tell you how he felt but I really didn't want that." He purses his lips, studying the tile floor beneath us, poking the toe of his Converse into a black smudge. "I was afraid you would break up with me if you knew."

We're both silent as the truth settles in the air between us. I watch his shoe, not wanting to look at his face, embarrassment seeming inevitable. I felt so stupid for being pissed at him for something so minute. It was ridiculous and I felt really fucking dumb...

"What bet did you think we were talking about?" Zacky asks suddenly and I glance up at him to see his eyes narrowed at me in consideration.

I roll my eyes, feeling even more ridiculous. "It's nothing," I say, but his scrutiny remains fixated on me. I sigh, looking up at him. "I heard a rumor that you were only fucking me because of some bet you had."

Zacky laughs before biting back on the action. "Wait, what?" He shakes his head and I feel his hand slide into mine, our fingers intertwining, and I knew we were done fighting. "I would never do that to you, Frank. I'm with you because I want to be."

I nod, swallowing hard, and let him pull me into a hug. He's abnormally quiet as we make our way toward the parking lot, passing the few various cars that still remain. I make a point to catch Mikey's eye, as he stands outside Gerard's familiar black car waiting for me. I give him a small wave and point to Zacky, hoping he'll understand that I'm catching another ride and not think I'm sending out the Bat Signal like I'm being mugged or something. Of course, he can see me and, even though his eyesight is shitty, can clearly tell that I'm not in any immediate danger. He nods in my direction before climbing into the car and they pull out of the lot.

We reach Zacky's bike and he pulls a helmet out of his ass because honestly there is no other place it could have been that I didn't see it before he hands it to me. He catches my eye before I can slide it on, nerves racking my entire body. I've never been on a motorcycle and I've been raised to think they're death on wheels. But the look on his face surprises me and I hesitate. "What's wrong?" I ask.

Zacky bites his lip, gazing out across the empty parking spaces thoughtfully. Eventually, he drops his head, only a second later lifting it again to look at me. "I heard the same rumor you did," He admits. "The one about the bet."

I nod slowly, not understanding why he looks so torn. A lot of people heard the same rumor. If only one person had heard it, it wouldn't be a rumor. It would be a failed attempt at a rumor. My stomach seems to twist again. "You said it wasn't true," I accuse, waiting for him to laugh in my face and tell me that it wasn't just gossip; That he had been lying the whole time. 

But he shakes his head fervently. "It's  _not_  true," He says quickly. "But it's just... I also heard who started the rumor in the first place."

I don't see why it mattered. I figured it was just some lowlife who was bored of their own sex life and decided to pick on mine. But the uncertain look on Zacky's face made me want to press him for information. Maybe if I found out who started the rumor, I could confront them or spill my lunch on them or some shit. "Who started it then?" I wonder.

Zacky takes one of my hands in his, the helmet suddenly feeling too heavy in the other when he lets his eyes come back to mine. "Josh Ramsay started the rumor."


	12. All Apologies

I spent the entire night in my room, glaring at my Nirvana poster like it was somehow Kurt's fault; _Josh Ramsay started the rumor_. It seemed impossible and the simple thought of it made my head spin and my stomach twist.

The first step was denial. No way in hell would Josh spread a lie like that. He was one of my best friends, I had known him for years. He was the kind of guy that confronted rumors, not started them. Especially when it came to his friends. That's one of the things I liked about him; He was straightforward, even if the brutal truth sucked to hear.

But that was also one of the reasons I thought that maybe Zacky wasn't lying. Josh was a very social person, one of the perks of his various band and musical activities. He would have had plenty of opportunities to say the wrong thing to the wrong person. Which leads me to the second step; Acceptance.

Maybe it was Josh that started the rumor after all. He was always talking to someone, so maybe he had slipped up and said something he shouldn't have. But even still, why would he tell someone that it was just a bet? He had to have known that I would find out, that I would be able to follow the gossip trail back to him. That's when the third step settled in; Pain.

I couldn't believe that Josh would intentionally start a rumor about me, especially one like this, one that he had to have known would hurt me so much. He knew that I would find out-- it was impossible to  _not_  find out-- and then what? He knew I would feel betrayed. He knew that I would be upset with Zacky. Which led me to the fourth and final step; Anger.

I was  _pissed_. Josh was trying to ruin my relationship, the only good boyfriend I had ever had-- and yes, technically the first real boyfriend I ever had, but that's not important. What's important is that Josh knew what he said would have this effect on me, but did that stop him? No. It wasn't so much the rumor itself that was irritating me anymore, or even the point that Josh had started it, but the fact that I had been so mad at Zacky for it. When really I should be mad at Josh. One of my best friends...

_Fuck_. I guess I can't trust anyone anymore, can I?  _Zacky_ , my mind whispered to me.  _You can trust Zacky._

I fell asleep to the serene thought, feeling the truth as it presented itself to me. Fuck Josh. Zacky was all I needed...

The anger was completely faded by the time I woke up the next morning. I wasn't thinking about Josh or Gerard or any of the fucking rumors. I was thinking about Zacky and the very vivid, very  _erotic_  dream that still filled my thoughts from the night before. I make my way to the bathroom down the hall, washing away the sweat and dirty thoughts that seem to cling to me, and scurry back to my bedroom. Throwing on a pair of jeans, I scan the room for a clean shirt. I find one tossed into the corner of the room and pick it up, sniffing it hesitantly. When it doesn't smell like death or any type of weird fungus, I shrug and pull it on over my head. I grab my Misfits jacket from where it's strung over the back of the desk chair, zipping it up to my neck to hide the few dwindling hickeys that Zacky left the last time I saw him. I scolded him for it, telling him he needed to suck lower (that sounds dirty...) but he kept telling me that he liked to kiss my neck. He claimed that it made him happy to leave the carnal marks where everyone could see, like he was making sure that everyone knew that he had done that to me. It was like marking his territory. But in a romantic way.

I go through most of the day in my happy-go-lucky mood. Until lunch. I'm poking my salad silently, waiting for Zacky to arrive, coming in late from some make-up test, and save me from the awkward silence that consumes our table. It's just me and Mikey and Matt and I don't bother asking where Andrew or Josh are. I don't really care.

A tray slides onto the table beside me and I glance up, hoping to see my boyfriend but, before my eyes even focus on a face, they register a streak of blue hair and I look back down, the animosity crashing on me like a wave. I clench my hand into a fist and prop my elbow onto the hard table, focusing even more on my food. With Josh in such close proximity, my head starts pounding with things I could say and do to him right now. I could punch him in the face. I could stab him with my puny plastic spork. But I just shift my body so I'm angled away. He doesn't seem to notice.

"I was thinking about getting my nose pierced," He announces. "Not like septum or anything because that weirds me out. But nostril. I think it would look good. Wouldn't it look good, Mikey? It would totally look good." He shovels a bite of food into his mouth and I feel him bouncing on the bench next to me.

I shoot him a death glare, the motion and the fury making my stomach feel gross. "Could you not?" I snap irritably.

He tilts his head to one side, watching me curiously. "Not get my nose pierced?" He wonders. He shrugs, looking back to his food and repeating, "I think it would look good."

I roll my eyes. "I don't care about your freaking nose, dumbfuck. I mean quit bouncing. And breathing my air."

Josh's movements cease immediately and he turns slowly to look at me, confusion now the dominant expression taking over his features, mid-bite. Even Mikey and Matt look up at me, Mikey cocking an eyebrow over his glasses. I just look back to my food.

"Who pissed in your oatmeal, Sweet Pea?" Josh nudges me with his shoulder and I jerk away, grinding my teeth together.

"Careful," I snap. "You don't wanna get too close. People might start thinking you're part of the bet, too."

Josh lets out a short laugh. "What bet? Is there a cash prize? I want to play."

"Oh, you've played me enough." I glare at my food, not wanting to see him anymore and avoiding the curious gaze of Mikey and Matt. "You  _almost_  got what you wanted, asshole."

Mikey pokes my hand from across the table and I move my gaze quickly to him. "What?" I demand, but his warning look is too late. Josh is already starting to get mad.

"What exactly did I want, Frank?" Josh wonders, turning on the bench seat to face me. "Please enlighten me." I don't say anything, not trusting myself to speak without throwing a bitch fit here in the middle of the cafeteria. But Josh isn't letting it go that easily now that I've started it. "Come on, Frank. There's obviously a reason you're pissed at me. What is it that you think I did?"

And that sets me off. "I don't  _think_  you did anything, you conceited little twat." I struggle to keep my voice down but a few of the surrounding tables glance up at us uneasily. I don't focus on them. Instead, I whip around to glare at Josh. "I  _know_  you were the one who started the rumor about me and Zacky so you can quit with the whole innocent act."

Josh shakes his head slightly. "You do realize that I have no fucking idea what you're talking about, right?"

I laugh. "The bet," I clarify. "The rumor where Zacky is sleeping with me because of a stupid fucking bet. I know you're the one who started it."

Josh actually looks stupefied, his eyes widening and feigning ignorance, which only pisses me off more. "Who told you that?" He demands.

I shake my head once, a short jerky movement. "Doesn't matter," I say dismissively. "What matters is that I know. I almost broke up with Zacky because of you."

Josh snorts, his body relaxing as he turns back to his lunch. "Good," He says. "That guy freaks me out. I think you're better off without him, Frankie."

And that's when I snap. I feel the anger turn into downright fury and it feels like I can't even control my own body. Within a split second, I'm lunging off of the bench, dragging Josh with me. He looks shocked as his back connects with the hard tile, his open hands pressed flat against my chest, trying to hold me back. My knees are on either side of his slim body, pinning him down. One fist tangles in his black button-up shirt, holding him in place, while I pull the other back for the first blow.

I only get one punch in before I feel hands wrapping around my body, tugging on my arms and shirt and dragging me away from Josh. Through the red, I see Mikey help Josh stagger to his feet. Mikey is more focused on making sure Josh is okay, but Josh watches me, stunned. He lifts a hand to his mouth, his lip now split open, and pulling away with a smudge of dark blood on his fingertips. Satisfaction and pure pride fill me, knowing that Josh fully deserved that, and I struggle against the hands that restrain me. I only glance back, realizing that it's Matt who is playing the part of human handcuffs and keeping me from murdering Josh. I vaguely notice the sudden crowd we have as students gather around to see what's happening before Mikey appears directly in front of me. His eyes are absurdly wide, staring at me in horror. "What the hell is your problem?" He demands, but I don't want to focus on him, craning my neck to see around him.

"Stay the hell away from me, you son of a bitch!' I scream at Josh who stands a safe distance away, still looking shocked. "I will kick your fucking ass next time!"

Mikey appears in front of me again. "What the hell, Frank!?" He says, his own voice raising, which is odd for him. "Josh didn't do anything to you!"

Now my gaze shifts voluntarily to him, staring at Mikey like he's gone crazy. He  _has_  gone crazy if he honestly thinks Josh didn't start the rumor. "You're siding with him?" I demand. "You're supposed to be my best friend, Mikey."

"I am," He sighs, rolling his eyes, but I cut him off.

"Apparently not if you're taking  _his_  side."

Mikey cocks an eyebrow. "What is this? Fucking middle school? Frank, you don't even know for sure--"

"The hell I don't," I spit. "Zacky told me."

"Of course he did," Josh chuckles softly, rolling his eyes and regaining his normal cockiness. I want to rip his fucking tongue out and make him eat it.

"You know what? Fuck you!" I yell at him. "Fuck you, Josh!" I pull out of Matt's grip and go to stand in front of Josh. I feel Matt hovering in case I try to attack him again, but I think he knows I won't. Mikey stands between the two of us, like his wiry frame will really stop me if I decide to muder Josh. "You're a fucking asshole, Josh," I tell him, my voice conveying a threat my words don't. "Keep running your mouth, I don't give a shit. But you can go straight to hell for all I care." I turn my gaze to Mikey, not saying a word, simply shaking my head in disappointment, letting my eyes tell him how betrayed I actually felt.

I turn around and the crowd actually parts to make room for me to pass through. I take the narrow path that they created, keeping my head held high and trying to let the whispers not bother me. I scan the room for Zacky, my eyes finally landing on him near the exit. He looks amused, leaning casually against the door frame, arms crossed, with his usual group of friends. Synyster is right beside him. I try not to let it bother me but my eyes move away from them, this time landing on Gerard. He stands a few yards away from the crowd, watching me sadly, Bert near his shoulder. His eyes catch mine and I feel the urge to go over to him and demand what he and Zacky were actually talking about. I wanted to hear it from him. But I couldn't do that. That would mean that I don't trust Zacky, which I do. So I drop the gaze and my eyes finish scanning the room just as Zacky appears at my side. He silently slips his hand into mine, but I don't look at him right away.

"Where the hell are all the teachers?" I wonder absently.

Zacky chuckles. "You're fucking lucky they weren't here when you jumped that kid."

I glance up at Zacky and can't help but smile, knowing he's right. If any of the teachers had witnessed my little stunt back there, my ass would be getting a ten day suspension. So I just laugh and let Zacky pull me out of the cafereria. I don't ask where we're going but I don't care. I already feel better just being near him, the anger deflating. I let out a long breath, trying not to think about how fast my heart is beating or the fact that I may have just lost my best friends...


	13. Thir13en

Zacky and I skip the rest of the day, instead going back to my house. My parents are both at work so I figure it's safe enough to take Zacky there. I cling to his body, arms wrapped around his waist in a desperate attempt to not fly off the back of his speeding motorcycle as we take off. It's calming really, the wind whipping around me and nearly taking my breath away. But the serenity only lasts for about a block before my thoughts are racing through my head as fast as the trees are whirring by.

I just attacked one of my best friends.  _What the hell was I thinking?_  I was never really one to be violent unless someone else started it; I didn't go out looking for fights and I certainly didn't punch my best friends because of some rumor. So what happened? Why was I suddenly treating Josh like he had thrown the first punch? 

_Because he did,_  a little nagging voice in the back of my head tells me.  _He started the rumor. He deserved so much worse than he got. He did throw the first punch, even if it wasn't physical..._

The thoughts bother me all the way home, even when I silently climb off of Zacky's bike and lead him inside the vacant  house. I skip the tour, pulling him past the framed family photos and straight toward the stairs. He's quiet, too, until we get to my bedroom. I push the door shut, though we have the house to ourselves. But just the gesture seems to help my attitude a little bit, like I'm closing Zacky and I off away from the rest of the world. Zacky sits down on my bed, cocking an eyebrow at me as he shoots me an amused expression. "Batman sheets?" He teases and I feel myself blush. But the sensation doesn't last for long. I bite my lip, crossing my arms and studying Zacky.

"Did I overreact?" I ask. "I mean, you said that Josh started the rumor. But he acted like he had no idea what I was even accusing him of."

Zacky rolls his eyes and reaches out to grab my hand. Our fingers twist together and he pulls me toward him, making me sit down across from him on the bed. "Forget about Josh," Zacky mumbles and he closes the distance between us. Just like that, Zacky changes the topic at hand, shifting the focus away from Josh and back onto us. But the nagging parts of my mind don't seem to take the hint when Zacky pulls me into his lap. I straddle his legs, which hang off the edge of the bed, my knees tucked under myself.

"What if he was telling the truth?" I ask, putting a little distance between Zacky's mouth and my own, my eyes darting around the untidy room as the though occurs to me. "Who told you that Josh started the rumor?"

Zacky rolls his eyes and tries to kiss me again, but I dodge the movement and slide off of his lap, pacing the length of the floor instead. I tug absently at my lip ring and fold my arms across my chest. "I mean, on the one hand; He could be lying. He could be covering his own ass because he doesn't want me to be mad. But I was already mad. If he doesn't like you, he can just tell me that. Which he did. So why would he lie about starting the rumor?" I look to Zacky for some sort of affirmation, but he just leans back slightly, watching me with a raised eyebrow. I immediately look back down to the ground, walking again. "On the other hand; You told me he started the rumor. I believe you. But what if you got it wrong somehow? Maybe somebody lied to you so that it would piss me off. But why would somebody want me to be mad at Josh?" I look back up at Zacky. "Who did you say told you that Josh started the rumor?"

Zacky just rolls his eyes  _again_  and stands up. He stops in front of me and takes both of my hands in his, looking down at me. "It doesn't matter, okay?" He says. "All that matters is that it's not true. It's just a rumor, okay?"

He leans in to kiss me again, wrapping one hand around the back of my neck, but once again I dodge the kiss. "But it does matter!" I say, exasperated. "I punched one of my best friends because of that rumor. I deserve to know who started it!"

"It was Gerard, okay?!" Zacky spits out. He looks irritated, which is something that's new to me. Usually he looks amused or mysterious. Irritation is not an emotion I'm used to seeing on his flawless face. But his words make me freeze. Zacky sighs, some sadness replacing the annoyance.

That might make some sense. That could be what the argument was actually about, the one in the bathroom that I overheard. What if Gerard was going to tell me that Josh started the rumor? But Zacky stopped him because he knew it would hurt me.

"Gerard told you that Josh started the rumor?"

Zacky just shakes his head sadly. "No," He says, biting down on his lip. "Gerard is the one that started the rumor about the bet."

It feels like my heart sinks. My stomach twists and my lungs seem to deflate. "Gerard started it?" I ask. Zacky nods. "No," I say. I refuse to believe that Gerard started a rumor about my relationship. Why would he care? And then I remember what Zacky told me. "He has a crush on me?" I ask and again Zacky nods.

I shake my head, nothing seeming to make sense anymore. If Gerard started a rumor that he knew would ruin my relationship, then he could have me all to himself. That made sense. What I couldn't quite figure out was...

"Why did you tell me Josh started the rumor, if you knew that it was Gerard?" I demand. 

"No," Zacky says quickly, stepping closer when I pull away. "No, baby. That's where I was today at lunch." I cross my arms, glaring at my boyfriend and willing him to explain. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. Uncertainty. Another new emotion coming from Zacky. "I didn't want you to do anything rash after I told you it was Josh that started the rumor," He pauses and gives me a cocky look. Of course, something rash is  _exactly_  what I did. I avert my gaze and shift uncomfortably, waiting for him to continue. "Syn and I were trying to figure out who  _actually_  started it. We were talking to some of the kids that spread it around and all of it led us back to Gerard."

I shake my head, still unsure as I watch the ground. Zacky steps into view and hesitantly puts two arms around me. After only a moment, I sigh, leaning into the embrace. I feel his arms tighten around me and wrap my own around his waist. I look up at him through my lashes and he smirks before lowering his lips to mine.

He grins into the kiss and pulls me toward the bed. This time, I don't resist, allowing myself to be pushed into the firm mattress. Zacky climbs on top of me, his torso flat against mine. His hands trail all over me, leaving a burning fire in their path like we've never touched before. The lust that he makes course through me seems too much, tainting my innocence with sinful passion. And I crave it. More than that, I crave his own passionate hunger. I want to make him feel the same way I do, I want to make him moan my name and beg for more.

I allow my hands to skim over his slim figure, tugging up his shirt and grazing only softly the skin underneath. He hums slightly, but I want more. I move my hands back down further, slipping my thumbs into the waist of his jeans and causing his hips to stir against mine. I fumble for only a second with the zipper, it becoming common knowledge by now how to strip Zacky of his clothing, like a second nature. I don't slide the jeans down though, like I assume he expects I will. Instead, I slide my hands under the loose material. My hands glide over the growing bulge under his boxers, barely touching him through the thin fabric. But when my hands near his ass, I grab onto him and pull him down into me, squeezing. He gasps in a breath, clearly not expecting that, and I grin. His surprise allows me to take dominance over his tongue and I prod my own against it, massaging the muscle. But just as quick, he switches our positions and I'm the one surprised. It takes me a moment to react, not sure what he's doing at first. But when he situates my body on top of his, spreading my legs apart and helping me straddle his waist, I realize exactly what's happening. He's  _letting_  me take control.

Nerves seem to rack my body, anxiety making my heart rate quicken and I hesitate. Zacky puts one hand around my neck, the other wrapping around my thigh, and deepens the kiss. "You're doing great," He assures me.

I nod once and try to clear my mind, letting nothing but my instincts take over, hoping like hell my instincts won't do me wrong. I dip my head lower and start to grind my hips down into his. He hums his consent while his hands move up my shirt, tugging the cloth over my head and tossing it away from us. I trail my lips away from his, down his jaw. My tongue slides in little swirls over the sensitive skin of his neck and I blow out gently, causing him to shiver beneath me. I pull up the hem of his shirt, letting my fingers touch the warm flesh, grazing the trail of hair that leads down into his jeans. I want to pull his shirt off, like he did with mine, but in all honesty I'm scared. I know what he wants, what I want to give him, but I don't know if I can. I mean...  _Fuck_. I've never given a blow job before.

After a long moment, Zacky pushes his hands against my chest. I sit up straight, only long enough for him to pull his own shirt off, and then he's pulling me back down to him. My lips connect with his clavicle and I feel his hips bucking up into mine. I glance quickly at him, seeing that his head is tilted up, neck exposed. His eyes are shut tightly and his bottom lip is sucked in between his teeth. I take a deep breath, dragging my kisses down his chest. I wanted to make Zacky moan for me, I wanted him to feel the same passion I did. Maybe this was how I was going to get that. 

My tongue dips into his naval, my nose brushing against the exposed flesh of his abdomen. I reach into the fabric of Zacky's boxers, stroking the hard member and planting soft kisses across his waist. But just as I'm pulling the boxers down, a sound interrupts my thoughts and makes my movements cease immediately. I jerk my head up to face Zacky, who definitely heard the same thing I did.

The front door.

We both jump up, me moving much faster than Zacky, as I throw his shirt toward him and pull my own on. I tug at my pants, trying to make my boner less evident. I contemplate hiding in my closet and hoping that whoever is home will leave again soon, but I know that won't work. Zacky's motorcycle is still in the driveway. That's kind of a dead giveaway that I'm home.

I glance quickly at the clock and relax only slightly when I see that it's already three'o'clock. At least school is out by now, so there's no explaining as to why I'm ditching with the boyfriend that my parents didn't know I had. 

When both of us are situated and it doesn't look like we were just three seconds away from sex, I pull Zacky toward the stairs. Descending them quietly, I try to figure out what the odds are that I can get Zacky out of the door before my parents see him. But when my mother appears in the living room out of fucking nowhere, my effort is lost.

"Hey, Mom!' I say, probably too happily.

She smiles softly from where she's taking off her clean white shoes, mandatory at the nursing home she assists at. She glances warily at Zacky who is standing slightly behind me. "Who's this?" She wonders.

"This is Zacky," I say. I want to introduce him as my boyfriend, which I doubt my mother will mind-- she actually seems cool with me being gay. What stops me is the fact that we both probably smell like sweat and came rushing down the stairs as soon as she was through the door. That's a tad bit suspicious if you ask me. So I settle with, "He's a friend from school."

Mom nods, smiling up at him. "And will he be staying for dinner?"

I glance back at Zacky but he shakes his head. "I've got to get home. Thanks, Mrs. Iero. Maybe another time."

My mother smiles again and turns to put her shoes away and Zacky takes the opportunity to kiss me one last time. "I'll see you tomorrow," He mumbles and then winks. I nod and look back to my mom just as she turns around. We stand there awkwardly for a second before Zacky waves and heads for the door, pinching my ass on his way past. I let out a squeal and jump, receiving a strange and slightly concerned look from my mom and a simple grin from Zacky. 


	14. Chapter 14 o_o

I couldn't confront Josh. I was too scared, and embarrassed, to actually face him. I knew that I needed to apologize and possibly bake him a cake that said " _I'm sorry for being such an ass_ " in blue sparkly icing, but I couldn't bring myself to actually do anything. So I avoided him. But it wasn't  _just_  him. I ignored everyone, even Zacky, for three days. I hid in the bathroom the first day, trying to scarf down a salad with my nose plugged, but eventually the repulsive smell hit me and I barely had time to slide onto my knees in front of the toilet before I introduced the gross smelling porcelain to my undigested salad. Needless to say, that was the only day I stayed in the bathroom. The next two days, I spent my lunch period in the nurses office. Miss Zimmerman doesn't seem to mind, she just tells me to fake a cough if anyone walks by so I don't get busted for skipping class.

I feel bad, ignoring everyone, but it almost seems like they're returning the favor. Mikey tries to text me and make sure I'm okay when I skipped the last few classes after the fight, but I don't reply beyond ' _I'm fine._ ' He seems to get the point that I don't want to talk and doesn't send anything back. 

Zacky texts me a few times and even calls once or twice, but I don't want to talk to him either. He waits by my locker each day but I shrug him off easily and tell him I'm in a hurry. He seems to buy it and I remain nearly alone.

I succeed in avoiding everyone until Friday. I come to school at the usual time and make my way to my locker, watching nothing but my own hands, mechanically putting a few books in and pulling my Bio textbook out. I close the metal door and turn to Zacky, about to say something about being late to class, but shut my mouth immediately. He smirks, watching my surprised face, and holds out a small black box. I raise an eyebrow at him. "What's that?" I ask, not making a single move to grab it.

Zacky just holds it out farther and his smile grows a little. "Open it." He prompts.

I hesitate, glancing at the clock and realizing I still have a full three minutes before the late bell rings. I sigh and grab the small box, pulling the top off. Inside is a post-it note, the dull yellow of the paper contrasting against the vibrant red satin of the inside of the box. My eyes skim over the words a few times before I finally have to give up and turn my attention back to Zacky.

"I don't get it," I state. "What is it?"

Zacky leans closer, his lips brushing the lobe of my ear and making me shiver slightly. "It's when you'll get the rest of your present." His tongue snakes out, touching the soft skin of my neck. "Meet me there."

His breath hits my skin and I swallow hard. I'm about to ask more, like why the hell he's giving me a present, but the bell rings before I can force the words to leave my mouth. Zacky smiles once again, an evil glimmer in his beautiful eyes, and winks before he takes off down the hall. I move my gaze back to the small note, grazing over the messy hand-written words. 

__**7PM.**  
2509 Northbank Drive.   
Back entrance, down the alley.   
Second floor, third door on the left. Room B15.   
Don't be late. 

I shove the note into the pocket of my jeans and hurry toward the Biology room. I need to get to class, I can think about Zacky later. 

Of course, it was just my luck that Mr. Benson remembered his previous threat of making me clean the tarantula's cage the next time I was late to class. So when I slide into my seat a few minutes following the annoying telltale bell, the aging teachers glances up with amusement in his dull eyes. "Frank," He says and I try harder to make myself invisible, keeping my eyes glued to the black table. "I presume you recall my punishment for multiple tardies." I groan internally and let my head drop to the lab table. I imagine Benson grinning, because he's an asshole and he enjoys torturing his students. "Lunch today," He says. "I expect you to report here. Einstein's terrarium is in need of a cleaning."

I check out the whole rest of the period, my mind wandering in a thousand different directions. One side of my brain is wondering what Zacky has planned for tonight, why he would be getting me a gift of any kind at all. The other side of my brain is thinking about Josh. I need to apologize. But how? I was being a jerk and I jumped to conclusions. I overreacted. It was embarrassing, having to face him, which is why I haven't yet, but I know that I can't put it off forever. I'll have to talk to him sometime.

And Mikey... God, I blamed him for taking Josh's side in the argument.  _Wait_...

My mind wiped completely clean of any other thoughts when Mikey entered. Does Mikey know that his brother started the rumor? He was a good liar, I knew that by now, so he could have easily made me think that--

No. I cut off the thought immediately. I was not going to doubt Mikey. Mikey was my best friend, he would not lie to me.  _Then again, I thought Josh wouldn't lie to me either..._

But he didn't. Josh  _did not_  lie to me. He was telling the truth and I acted like, for lack of a better word, a complete jerk. I had absolutely no reason to doubt Mikey.

Maybe I should just ask him about it. I could always jump Gerard in between classes and shove his face into a locker door, but that wouldn't help at all. Violence was not the answer; I had learned that soon after punching Josh. I should just talk to Mikey, or better yet; I could just go straight to Gerard. I have seen that kid try to lie and it's a poor sight to witness; He gets all flustered and stutters over every word. It's kind of entertaining in a way. He wouldn't be able to lie to me even if he wanted to.

But when the bell finally rings, I find myself getting nervous. I don't want to confront Gerard any more than I want to face Josh. So I cling to the wall, keeping my head down and shuffling my feet against the scuffed tile floor toward my locker. When I get there, there's a note dropped inside which falls out lazily when I pull the metal door open. I unfold it quickly, kind of disappointed when I see it's from Zacky. It says that he's ditching the rest of the day but written in his scribbly handwriting at the bottom is another reminder to be on time tonight.  _If only I knew what I needed to be on time for_...

•••

"I can't touch it," I say, hands up in surrender and back pressed against the wall. I shake my head, frowning. "Nope. That thing has hair and more than enough legs. Nope. Not happening."

Mr. Benson rolls his eyes but I can tell he's amused by my reluctance to take Einstein out of the large plastic terrarium. "Just hold your hand out for him to climb onto," Benson explains.  _Yeah, my lack of knowledge on how to handle that damned thing is not the issue, you jerk. My issue is touching that thing at all_. "Place him into this jar," He holds up a medium sized glass canning jar. "Clean the cage, and then put him back."

I shake my head again. "Why can't you give me detention like a normal teacher?" I demand.

Benson actually smiles, the sadistic bastard. "Because this punishment is funner for me." He sets the glass jar onto the black counter and turns back to his desk, grabbing his grey jacket and satchel. "The cage will be cleaned properly by the time I get back from lunch or I'll be watching you clean it every week for the rest of the year."

My mouth falls open and my eyes widen in terror. This has to be cruel and unusual punishment. Somebody call the CIA or something 'cause this motherfucker is torturing his students. This can't be legal. I make my way over to the cage, peering in hesitantly. I can see the fuzzy back of Einstein, his exoskeleton covered in brown hair of some kind. I jump twelve feet in the air and let out an unnaturally high-pitched, yet very manly sounding, scream when his freaky legs twitch and he moves forward an inch. Only when I calm my breathing and force my heart to beat at a steady pace do I step closer again, realizing that he's not going to jump out and kill me.  _Yet_.

_I can do this,_  I tell myself. I have to. I don't really have a choice unless I want to become Einstein's regular house cleaner. I picture myself in a short black maid's uniform and cringe. No way in hell am I wearing a dress, though I highly doubt Benson would be that cruel.

I take a deep breath, closing my eyes and craning my head as far away as can be, reaching a hand out.

"Are you actually gonna touch it?" The voice makes me scream again and nearly piss my pants, retracting my arm and causing another heart attack.

"Holy fuck, Mikey!" I exclaim, doubling over and trying to ease my panic. "Don't do that to me! I could've died!" I raise an eyebrow in his direction. "What are you doing in here?"

Mikey let's out a small laugh and comes farther into the room. "I heard you got in trouble for being late again. I wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to see you touch a spider."

I grimace, glancing back at the evil eight-legged spawn of Satan who seems completely unfazed by my near panic attack. "He's plotting against me, I can tell. He's gonna wait until I stick my hand in there and then  ** _BAM!_**  He bites it off and keeps it as a souvenir."

Mikey snickers again and comes to watch the spider, getting a hell of a lot closer than I would ever like to be. He just watches the spider, seeming completely absorbed in it's lack of movement.

I bite my lip, focusing on Mikey instead-- partially because the arachnid freaks me out and partially because I know my apology has to start somewhere. "Look, Mikey--"

"I know," Mikey interrupts. "You were an asshole and I forgive you." He sends me a sideways glance and smirks.

I smile. "Thanks." I sigh. "I know it wasn't Josh that started the rumor. I shouldn't have spazzed out like I did." I shrug, trying to avoid his gaze. "I shouldn't have doubted you guys."

"Don't go getting all sappy on me, Iero," Mikey says. "Say sorry and move on with your life."

I roll my eyes and let out another small sigh, finally meeting his gaze. "I'm sorry, Mikey."

Mikey smiles again and pulls me into a hug, just a quick one before pulling away and pointing at the glass jar that sits on the counter to my left. "I know. And I forgive you. Now hand me the jar before I change my mind."

"Change your--" My words cut off halfway through as I realize what he's saying and quickly hand him the jar. "Mikey Way, you are a fucking lifesaver."

"Yeah, I know." Mikey mumbles, reaching a steady hand into the plastic cage and letting the creepy-ass tarantula climb onto his slim fingers. It makes me cringe away, just seeing it, and I hold my breath until he has the spider safely inside the jar.

He sets the jar aside and leans against the black marble-top counter, watching me as I begin my duties cleaning out the terrarium. It's silent for a few minutes before Mikey finally speaks up, his eyes on my moving hands. "I'm going over to Josh's tonight," He says nonchalantly, but I can tell exactly where he's going with this. He's prompting my apology. "You could always come."

I want to say yes, but then I remember my plans; Zacky's surprise. Whatever he had planned for tonight had to be special if he kept demanding that I be on time. But I also knew how important it was that I apologize to Josh. If I didn't take the chance to apologize tonight, I might make him wait too long. If I make him wait too long, he might not accept my apology. I wasn't willing to lose one of my best friends because of some stupid rumor.

So I nod at Mikey and force a smile. "Yeah, I'll be there."


	15. Capitolo Quindici

I pace the sidewalk outside of the school. I politely declined a ride from Gerard, not trusting myself to face him just yet about the rumor, but leaving myself with no way home but walking. Zacky had left early and I had already missed the bus, but I didn't mind really. The late April air seems to probe the uncovered bits of my skin with the lingering chill of Winter, but the sun hits it just as quick, warming it back to a comfortable temperature. The grass seems dead, mud forming in place where the snow has melted and the plants haven't yet started budding. I prod a section of the visible earth, pressing the cell phone even closer to my ear. It rings. And rings. And rings some more. The shrill noise seems unending and I sigh irritably. Finally the familiar mechanic voice takes its place and I groan into the speaker, punching the end call button and not bothering to leave a message. I quickly slide the phone open, exposing the keypad and typing a text to Zacky. 

_Call me. Need to talk._

This is the second message and third phone call since lunch and still no response. I take a deep breath and give up for now, shoving the phone back into my pocket. I pick up my speed, my feet carrying me away from the school and down the unevenly paved sidewalk.

I feel like a horrible person. I shouldn't be cancelling on Zacky, but I want so badly to make sure things are okay between me and Josh. And at least I'm not so much of a jackass that I'm ditching him via text message. I have the balls to at least say it over the phone.

Okay, I'm kind of a coward and don't want to tell him to his face that I'm skipping out on this so called present he has for me. And my nerves only amplify when I'm about a block from my house and the phone in my pocket goes off, breaking into my thoughts and actually making me jump. I pull it out and bite my lip, pressing the small device to my ear.

"Hey, Zacky," I answer, hesitantly.

"I got your text. What's up?" His voice is casual and relaxed and I let my head fall forward in guilt of what I am about to say.

"I can't make it tonight."

Silence...

For a long second I think he's hung up, but I can hear his even breathing on the other end though he says nothing. Eventually I swallow and push the words out of my mouth in a rush. "Look, I really want to come, but I talked to Mikey and he thinks I should go see Josh tonight and I feel like I have to since-- in case you forgot-- I punched him in the face and --"

I'm cut off by Zacky's dry laughter. "Yeah, whatever." He mutters, the annoyance clear in his voice.

I've stopped walking, everything seeming to cease when I answered the phone. I rub the bride of my nose between two fingers and sigh. "Look, I know you're mad. I'm sorry, but --"

"Like I said, it's whatever." Zacky cuts me off again and this time I look up, narrowing my eyes into a glare though I can't actually see him.

"Would you just let me fucking explain?" I ask, anger lacing it's way into my own words. "I have to go see Josh. I don't know why you're so upset about this. I mean, this present you keep promising is kind of short notice, if you think about it. I have friends, you know? I can't always have time for just you."

"Wow," Zacky laughs again and I can imagine him running a hand through his short hair. "Fine. Go see your friends. I don't fucking care."

And then he hangs up.

I'm left staring at my phone with a shocked and somewhat bewildered expression. Well, that did not go how I had planned. I knew that he wouldn't be happy about my change of plans but... What the hell was that!? I shake my head and find myself storming the last few yards to my house, throwing the front door open, grateful that no one is home yet, and stomping up the stairs to my bedroom. I slam that door, too, just for good measure. I feel like a tantrumming three year old, but I don't care. I stand there in the middle of my room, fuming and glaring at the empty space between myself and the poster covered wall. Then I shrug off my jacket and throw it as hard as I can manage at the wall, which is quite complicated since it ends up tangled around one of my arms and just falls limply to the messy carpet. So I kick it, sending the ball of cloth flying across the room and nearly knocking the lamp off my cluttered desk. I sigh, feeling childish. My breathing is shallower now and the skin between my eyes in crinkled into a knot.

I fall onto my bed, the rumpled sheets poking uncomfortably into my back, but ignore the feeling. I run both hands over my face, biting down hard on my lip. I can feel the start of a headache coming and roll over onto my side.

I hate knowing that Zacky is mad at me for cancelling whatever he had planned, but I know that I have to talk to Josh. I know I was an asshole and I have to make sure things are okay between us. Zacky has to understand that... I'll just calmly explain to him, in person, and I'll make it up to him. Somehow...

I end up falling asleep there on my bed, not waking up until the sun is starting to settle low in the sky. I sit up immediately and reach for my alarm clock, cursing when it reads 6:56. I jump out of bed, almost falling face first onto the carpeted floor when both of my legs tingle with the sensation of a thousand needles prodding the skin. I catch myself on the wall and stand there for a total of three minutes before the limbs wake up and I can race down the stairs without tripping and killing myself.

Luckily, I have an idea by now for how I can talk to Josh and apologize for being a complete jerk. I just have to hurry before the mini-mart closes.

•••

I finish placing the Skittles on the pizza, since the stupid man that gave me the pizza refused to put them on himself. He said it was inappropriate, took my money, and then told me to leave. Asshole.

I pop a leftover Skittle into my mouth and jump up off the bench, the park vacant this late in the evening. The wind is cold as it seems to physically wrap around me, making me pull the loose jacket closer to my body and shut the box. I'm thankful the pizza is still hot so I have at least a small amount of warmth near me as I finish the walk to Josh's house. I see lights flickering in an upstairs room and force my frozen hand into a fist to knock on the front door. It's a long moment before the wooden barrier is thrown open and Josh stands there. The small smile that always seems in place on his face falters and his lips fall into a thin line. He crosses his arms and one hip juts out a little, his cockiness showing clearly. 

"We didn't order pizza," He says. His voice is weary and I think he's scared that I'm going to hit him again. Yep, I'm an asshole.

I purse my lips and open the pizza box, giving him a clear view of the cheese pizza. On the top, the colorful array of Skittles makes the shape of a penis. "I'm sorry. I'm a dick."

It takes a second, but I can see him fighting a smile and eventually he loses the battle. A grin stretches across his face and he visibly relaxes, his arms falling to his sides, and laughs. "Come on," He rolls his eyes and moves aside, letting me into the house.

I can't help but smile myself.

There's no sappy make-up. He simply leads me up the stairs to his bedroom where Mikey sits waiting on the center of the bed. He's focused intently on the video game that's playing across the large television screen, pressing buttons and leaning to the left. But he glances up at me once and smirks without saying a word.

Josh throws the pizza onto a desk that's shoved into a corner of the room and hands me a box of Chinese take-out instead. He grins, taking his place next to Mikey as I take up refuge on the hard floor. "I might forgive you, but I'm not eating your penis." He laughs. "Besides, that place sucks. They're pizza tastes like ass."

Mikey nudges Josh with his shoulder, never once taking his eyes off the screen. "How do you know what ass tastes like?"

Josh rolls his eyes dramatically. "It's a figure of speech, dude," He says. "Don't be gross."

" _Me_  be gross?" Mikey asks, feigning appall. "You're the one that eats ass."

I rip open a packet of chopsticks, tearing the thin wooden sticks apart and attempting to pick up the bits of rice and vegetables, and failing epically. A comfortable silence falls over us after that. Well, mostly silent. There are the occasional curse words flying out of Mikey's mouth and the maniacal laughter that fills the room when Josh kicks his ass round after round after round.

Eventually, Mikey throws the controller down on the bed and flips the television the bird, like somehow the dancing character on the screen is at fault for his loss. "Fuck you!" He yells and Josh falls back onto his mattress in a fit of laughter. "It was the fucking X button, it kept sticking!" He turns to Josh. "You gave me the shit controller on purpose!" He accuses.

Josh continues laughing. "You could have played with any controller and you still would have lost. You suck balls at this game."

Mikey glares and shoves Josh off the bed. He lands on the floor next to me but his laughter doesn't stop. Finally he calms down, though he stays laying face-down on the carpet beside me. He looks up at me through his lashes, his neck craned back at an awkward angle. "So why did you come here tonight?" He asks, his voice serious, which is something that's not really normal for his chipper persona. "The last time you talked to me you told me you would kick my ass the next time you saw me. Then you told me to go to hell. What changed your mind?"

I avert my gaze, not wanting to delve into the details of why I was such an asshole and why I was now apologizing. I shrug. "I know you weren't the one that started the rumor," I admit. "I overreacted and I don't want to lose my best friend because of some high school gossip."

I see Josh nod thoughtfully and he struggles for a second to sit up. He crosses his legs and places his clasped hands in his lap, watching me intently. "Why would you even think I would do something that low?" He wonders. His voice is soft, but there's an edge that makes me cringe when he says, "Was it because Zacky told you I started it?"

I shake my head, not because he's wrong but because I don't want to talk about this. Not now and probably not ever. "I know you don't like Zacky," I snap. "But it's not his fault. Don't put the fucking blame on him."

"You're right," Josh admits easily. "I don't like Zacky. I don't trust him. I think he's a creep. And I think he's using you."

I glare at Josh. I came here to apologize and this is what I get in return? He's insulting not only me but my boyfriend as well? No. "It's none of your damn business," I spit angrily. "He's not a creep. He's not using me. You're just fucking jealous. You're jealous that he actually likes me and that you don't have a boyfriend... Or a girlfriend." Is Josh even gay? All these years I've known him and he's never had any sort of romantic relationship that I've seen. I don't even know his preference. Weird... I push the thoughts away, they aren't what's important right now, and focus back on Josh.

He simply laughs and rolls his eyes sarcastically. "Yes, I am so jealous that I don't have a boyfriend who is cheating on me."

My eyes widen measurably at his statement. "Excuse me, what did you just say?"

Josh sighs. "Come on, Frank. I know you can't be that blind." I grind my teeth together, not trusting my voice to reply. Josh just takes my silence as leeway to continue. "He's constantly skipping lunch because he always has ' _tests_ ' to make up. He's always ditching school. You have to see it. He's cheating on you." The last words are spoken slowly and I feel the anger building up within me at the sound of them.

I want to punch him again. I want to shove his fucking face into the carpet so hard he can taste the dust and dirt. I want to shove my fist so far down his throat he chokes on his words. But I settle with jumping up from my seat on the ground and flipping him my middle finger. I don't say a word as I make my way down the stairs, ignoring Mikey's voice calling my name and Josh's exasperated sigh. I slam the front door closed and immediately cringe against the cold air that hits me like a ton of bricks. The sun is completely gone by now and only a few stars sparkle against the black sky, the moon just a small sliver of silver in the air.

I don't know where I'm going at first. I don't want to go home and I don't want to be here, so I push my feet to carry me aimlessly down the deserted sidewalk.

Time passes, I'm not sure how much exactly-- an hour, maybe?-- before my body seems to freeze. My thin jacket isn't enough to keep me warm and I find myself wrapping my arms tightly around my own torso, my fingers feeling numb and my nose already red. I eventually pull my cell phone out of my pocket with clumsy fingers and press Zacky's number. I hold it to my ear and wait, but no one answers. I sigh.

I feel like shit. Again; I'm a horrible person. He's probably pissed at me because I cancelled his plans, but I need to talk to him. I need to see him. So I push myself in the direction of his house, the steps of my feet seeming to come easier though my body feels numb.

I ball my hand into a frozen fist and knock three times, waiting somewhat impatiently, bouncing from foot to foot. I'm just about to knock again when nothing happens but, before my hand reaches the wood, the door swings open to reveal not one but  _two_  familiar faces. The first looks surprised, probably mimicking my own reaction, while the other is completely void of emotion. "Hey," Zacky says, his eyebrows raising at the sight of me. "Um... What are you doing here?"

I swallow hard, forcing my eyes to move away from the second figure and focus on my boyfriend instead. "Things didn't go over so well with Josh..." I mumble uneasily. "I called you. I was wondering if you still wanted to hang out. But..." My words trail off and my eyes slide back to the person behind him. "I see you already have company."

I bite my tongue against the building urge to scream at the top of my lungs and my jaw clenches at the sight of him standing so close to  _my_  boyfriend.

_Synyster fucking Gates._


	16. It Just Doesn't Feel Right

My stomach churns, seeming to physically flip over, because suddenly I'm spewing it's contents all over the ground at Zacky's feet. I see him jump back, surprised, bumping into Synyster in the process. The simple contact has my stomach flipping again and I cough up some dry heaves before finally wiping the back of my hand across my mouth. I'm doubled over for a long moment, just staring at the mess I've made on the Baker's welcome mat. I don't want to look at either of them. I feel disgusting and disgusted all at once. My breathing is uneven and when I finally straighten up to face the pair my skull begins spinning, throbbing, and I get light headed. I stumble a little and grab onto the doorframe just to keep myself upright. I feel drunk all of a sudden and it's too much.

"Umm..." Synyster has a grossed out look on his face, Zacky's expression is a mirror of the repulsion, and it hurts me just to see it on his beautiful features-- The features I've spent so long tracing in my mind, studying the line of his jaw or the curve of his lips, and now he's disgusted by me. His brow is furrowed and his lips are twisted into a grimace as he glances between me and the excrement. Synyster places a single hand on Zacky's shoulder, squeezing ever so slightly, but just the minute movement has my stomach wrenching again. I manage to hold back the vomit this time, though. "I should probably go." He steps carefully over the mess and past me. I don't stop him. In all honesty, I want to punch him very hard in the dick, but I refrain, focusing on Zacky instead.

Josh was right. Zacky is cheating on me. 

I simply stare at him for a long time. Tears sting in my eyes and twice I have to rub my sleeve across my face, chasing the salty liquid away. I can't cry. I need to be furious right now, not sad. Where is my damn fury!? I suppose I left it back with Josh when I flipped him off and stormed out of the house... But I can't think about that right now. Right now, all I can think about is Zacky being with him. I can just imagine his hands, the hands that have touched me, grabbing Synyster in the same ways-- Groping, grinding, feeling. God, am I gonna be sick again?

He doesn't say anything and eventually I find my only reaction to his silence is a limp shrug. "Have you--" I try to speak but my words come out choked and pathetic. I sigh, breathing in a shallow amount of air before trying again. "Are you screwing him, Zacky?"

_Well. That was blunt. Well done, Frank._

Zacky scoffs, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms. He shakes his head and his initial shock from seeing me-- and my puke-- is gone. His irritation from earlier is back, though. "Come on." It's a simple statement and his voice is still thick with annoyance, but he wraps his hand around my wrist and pulls me into the house, shutting the door behind me. I want to argue, I want so badly to be defiant and demand that he tell me right now if he's been sleeping with Synyster, but I feel helpless. His touch sends a warmth through my body and I allow myself to be pulled up the stairs.

As soon as we reach his room, my stomach seems to flip again and my original question is brought back to the forefront of my mind. My eyes first land on the mess of tangles blankets on the familiar mattress, strewn out and even falling off the bed. Once more, the image of Synyster and Zacky together haunts me and I rip my arm out of Zacky's grasp, spinning to face him. I hug my arms tightly across my chest and sniffle. "You're fucking him," I accuse. It's not even a question anymore. I seem to have found my anger and it was flaring up faster than a hooker's herpes. But just as quickly, the animosity turned into realization that I am an idiot. "I can't believe I actually trusted you. You bitch! I can't even--"

My words are cut off immediately when Zacky presses his hand to my mouth, successfully shutting me up. I settle with biting my lip and glaring at him. "Are you done?" He asks. More glaring. By this point, I'm trying to kill him just with my scowl. But he looks annoyed, not dead or even wounded. He sighs, letting go of me and running his hand through his hair instead. "I'm not having sex with Synyster Gates."

Well that puts a damper on my anger, but not so much that I ease up on my glower. I shrug, a stiff motion with my arms still folded against my chest. "How do I know you're not lying?" I demand. "I don't trust him. Why should I trust you?"

"Because I've never given you a reason not to." He steps closer, his eyes searching mine and I find nothing but sincerity-- and more than a small amount of discontent-- in their hazel hue. He's so close that I can feel his feel his exhaled breath on my face, warming me all the way to the core. I want nothing more than to kiss him but I quickly remember that I just blew chunks on his doorstep about three minutes ago. I should not be kissing anyone right now. So I turn away from him and pace the length of the carpeted floor, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my jacket. I hear him sigh again but don't face him right away. "How come you can ditch me for your friends but the second that I'm with someone else, you accuse me of fucking him?" He demands angrily.

I spin around and my mouth drops open, nostrils flaring. I feel like a bull and I'm ready to attack him. "That's not what this is about!" I yell. "This is about the fact that you ditch me every single day at lunch to make up some bullshit tests that you never even missed. This is about you skipping class on a regular basis and never telling me where you're going or who you're with! This is..." I feel my words trailing off and I know exactly what  _this_  is about. This, all of my doubt, is coming from Josh's theories.

Zacky takes advantage of my hesitation and throws his arms up dramatically. "You really wanna know what all of this is about, Frank?" He asks, but hurries on before I have the chance to say anything. "This is about the fact that my boyfriend cancelled our special date and I was bored and upset and I called my best friend to hang out. That's all it fucking was!"

"And why was tonight so special?" I wonder doubtfully. "What makes this night so different from yesterday or tomorrow?"

Zacky's eyes widen like I've just sprouted a third head. "Are you serious?" His voice cracks and he looks taken aback. When I don't reply, he visibly loses his anger and he tilts his head at me, looking hurt and disappointed. "Frank, tonight's special because it's officially been a month since I asked you to be my boyfriend."

I freeze. Is that true? Has it really been a month that Zacky and I have been a couple? I count through the days in my head twice before coming to the conclusion that yes, he is right and yes, I am an asshole. My shoulders, tense until now, relax and my own anger deflates. "Oh my fuck..." My eyes search the floor before going back to Zacky. "How did I not know that?" I sigh and rub a hand across the bridge of my nose. "Okay... I'm a horrible person. I'm a fucking terrible boyfriend."

I keep my eyes on the ground, tempted to lie down on the carpet, curl into a ball, and die. I just accused my boyfriend of having sex with his best friend when all that he was guilty of was being an awesome guy that I ditched.

Yep. I am a horrible person...

"Hey," I feel Zacky's hand's on my shoulders, surprising me because I hadn't heard him come closer. His arms wrap around me and I dejectedly lean into the embrace, sighing and burying my head in his chest. "You're not a terrible boyfriend," He mumbles into my hair. I let my eyes close and simply breathe him in, letting his scent fill my lungs with the air.

"Yes I am," I mutter. "I ignored you and then I forgot our one month and then I canceled your plans and then I accused you of sexing Syn up and then I threw up outside your front door." I don't look up at him, but I feel his fingers on my chin, pulling my face up toward his. I'm reluctant for a second before giving in and I allow my gaze to meet his. I purse my lips, chewing on the inside of my cheek.

"How did things go with Josh tonight?" He wonders.

I groan and let my head drop forward again, the memory replaying in my head. "Horrible." I admit. "I guess it could have gone worse. At least I didn't punch him." I hear Zacky chuckle softly and nestle my face into the crook of his neck. "He doesn't like you."

Zacky nods slowly. "If I'm being honest, I'm not exactly fond of him, either." I knew that, but hearing Zacky actually say it makes me sad for some reason. Knowing that my boyfriend and friends hate each other... It made me feel like I had to choose between them. I didn't want to choose anymore. I wanted both of them. Couldn't I have both my friends and my boyfriend?

"I hate all of you," I mutter.

Zacky just laughs, ruffling a few fingers through my hair. "No you don't."

I groan. "I know. But I wish I did. It would be so much easier if I hated all of you. I could just be a hermit and not have to worry about you cheating or Gerard's rumors or punching Josh." I look up at him and bite down on my lip ring. "What am I supposed to do?"

Zacky looks thoughtful for a moment before sighing and tightening his arms around me. "Ignore it," He tells me. "Ignore the rumors and ignore Josh's hatred toward me and ignore everyone who tells you that I don't care about you." He smirks and his eyes flash to my lips. "Because I do."

I grin and stand up on the tips of my toes to kiss him but he leans back, grimacing. He shakes his head. "You need mouthwash first." He laughs and his arms drop to his sides, one hand latching onto mine and dragging me behind him into the attached bathroom. He reaches into the cabinet under the sink, pulling out a clear bottle containing a vibrant blue liquid. "Here." He laughs and I roll my eyes with a smirk before taking the mouthwash. "And before this goes any farther, I need a shower.  _Somebody_  threw up on me."

I stick my tongue out and watch him as he pulls the shirt off over his head. I allow my eyes to trail across his pale skin, tracing the toned muscle that ripples under the alabaster flash. His fingers attach to the zipper of his jeans but his movements stop and he quirks an eyebrow at me. I blush, realizing I'm practically eye raping him as he undresses. I swallow hard and he smirks, kissing me once quickly on the cheek before I turn around. I focus on the mouthwash, unscrewing the cap and taking a big gulp, swishing it around in my mouth. I keep my eyes on porcelain of the sink, trying to ignore the fact that I can clearly see Zacky's reflection in the mirror.

When I spit and rinse my mouth one more time, just for good measure, I leave Zacky alone in the bathroom to finish his shower in peace. I make myself comfortable on the bed and within just a few minutes, the water is turning off and Zacky appears in the doorway. I swallow hard. He is delicious. His body is sparkling like Edward Cullen, but in a sexy "I just bathed" kind of way, not like a three year old who got ahold of glitter glue for the first time. Water gathers in drops across his chest and abdomen and his hair is damp from the steam. A towel hangs loosely from his protruding hips, showing off the V muscle that leads lower. I feel myself blush, watching him, but he grins and comes forward. He crawls onto the bed and his lips immediately connect with mine. I can feel him pressing me down toward the mattress and I abide, lying back and allowing him to climb on top of me. My hands wander to his exposed skin, tingling with the warmth that he radiates.

The kiss starts out slow, escalating rather quickly when he pulls my shirt off over my head and begins trailing his lips down my chest. I'm breathing hard already but my sense is still intact when I shake my head and dig my nails into his back. "What about your parents?" I ask. "They'll hear."

Zacky's mouth doesn't leave my skin, his words spoken directly against my body. "They're gone for the weekend." He raises his head and winks at me, making my heart skip a beat. "It's just you and me."

He lowers his head back to my chest, his tongue sliding in circular patterns around my nipple, but I pull him up again. "What was your plan?" I wonder. His eyes scrunch up a little and he looks confused. I brush my fingers through his hair and try to control my breathing. "The plan. Our date tonight. I was supposed to meet you somewhere..."

I let my words trail off and he picks up where I left off, nodding. He sits, swinging his legs away from mine and pulling them under his slim body. I follow suit, sitting up as well. "My dad buys out these condemned buildings for his firm all over Belleville and Newark," Zacky explains, motioning with his hands in the air to the general vicinity of New Jersey. "They knock them down, rebuild, and open a new office. Well, that address that I gave you was one of those buildings."

I raise an eyebrow, tilting my head to the surprise. "You're present for me was in a condemned building? I'm pretty sure that's dangerous. And illegal."

Zacky smiles and rolls his eyes. "That's why I told you to go in the back. And it's not  _that_  dangerous. Well anyways, I had the whole room set up for a romantic date. I hired these people to bring in a table and chairs and a couch and all this cheesy shit. It was just gonna be us for the whole night. Hella expensive steak dinner, old-ass wine, roses, all that junk."

My eyes widen as I watch him. Disregarding the steak dinner part-- Hello? I don't eat meat...-- I'm surprised that Zacky had all of that planned and it sounded fucking amazing. It was cheesy, sure. But it was romantic. And then I cancelled on him.

And cue feeling like a jackass.

I let my head drop into my hands and groan. "I'm a horrible boyfriend," I repeat.

Zacky laughs and pulls my hands away to look at me. He shakes his head. "You're not horrible."

"Yes I am," I argue. "You had this whole thing planned out and I didn't even get you a present."

Zacky bites down on his lip and I watch the movement intently, feeling more warmth build up inside of me at something so small. "Well," He voice has dropped to a seductive tone and I can feel the blush rising in my cheeks. Dammit, Frank. Stop blushing! "I know exactly what you can get me." His hand wraps around the back of my neck and he brings our lips back together, pulling me forward and leaning back. My heart immediately picks up pace as I shuffle forward to keep up with the swiftness of his movements and I climb onto his hips. I deepen the kiss, running my tongue along his lip and clumsily pulling at the white fabric of his towel. I hear him moan ever so slightly when my fingers brush bare skin. The noise, even so soft, makes me shiver with pleasure and I feel myself getting bold. My hand wraps around his length and his hips buck up into me. I chuckle at the eagerness and lean back an inch or so, catching his eyes and watching him. I gulp down some air and swallow the lump that seems lodged in my throat. His eyes are shielded with lust, the hazel color seeming to envelope me and consume me whole. I let out a shaky breath, my lips feeling numb and my voice sounding barely audible. "I love you, Zacky."

His eyes seem to clear a little at my words and I feel his body stiffen under mine. Oh shit. I should not have said that. What if he doesn't say it back? What if he doesn't feel the same way I do? What if he just shoves me off the bed and tells me to leave?

But Zacky simply places a small kiss on my lips, smiling. "I love you, too, babe."


	17. ...SeVeNTeeN...

I stare intently at the half eaten Kit-Kat bar in my hand, glancing back every few seconds at my plate. I bite down on my lip ring, tugging softly, before pursing my lips in consideration.

"Don't even fucking do it." Mikey's voice breaks through my somewhat trance-like state and I look up at him, my eyes widening a bit in innocence.

"I wasn't gonna do anything," I lie quickly, feeling like a deer in headlights.

"You've been staring at the Kit-Kat bar for the past five minutes," Mikey says. "I can see the temptation all over your face and that's disgusting."

I shake my head, feeling offended, and lean forward to rest my elbows on the table. "It might be good." I argue.

Mikey raises an eyebrow at me. "Frank, you are eating spaghetti and if you dip your Kit-Kat bar into that tomato sauce, I am throwing my bowl at you."

I narrow my eyes at him and childishly stick out my tongue. I know he's right-- Chocolate and Ragu? That's disgusting. And yet somehow it sounds so delicious... But I stuff the last bit of the candy into my mouth, finishing that off before turning my attention back to my breakfast.

It's a Sunday morning and here we are; Pajama clad and devouring pasta for the first meal of the day. Why? Simply because it sounded good to me. Mikey didn't argue, though he did give me a rather amused smirk before proceeding to accidentally drop all of the uncooked noodles on the tiled kitchen floor. After about three minutes of debating, we decided the five-second rule was valid and continued with our cooking anyway.

It's been a month since my mishap with Zacky-- you know, when I accused my amazing boyfriend of cheating on me?-- and it seems like things are actually starting to look up for me. Zacky is still as sweet as ever, even offering to duplicate our first month anniversary date, the original plan, for the second month, but I declined. I told him I just wanted to be with him-- no condemned buildings or once-living creatures on my plate; Just a simple movie and maybe some heavy making out, to which he abided and the date went smoothly. As for Josh, we gradually started talking again, leaving the topic of Zacky Baker out of the conversations, and soon forgot the whole incident even occurred. My friends still despised my boyfriend and vice versa, but I managed to make time for them both and they seemed happy enough with the arrangements.

And then there was Gerard. I still hadn't confronted him about starting the rumor, but I had succeeded in pushing my crude thoughts about him to the back of my mind and acted civil whenever he was near.

As if on cue, Gerard saunters into the kitchen at just that moment, dawning plaid blue pajama pants and nothing more. His bare chest is pale and fleshy, only a meager amount of muscle visible under the smooth layer of skin. He's scrawny, like his brother, but not as stretched out which makes him look less wiry and more average. I avert my gaze back to my bowl of untouched pasta, having eaten my candy bar first and foremost, as Gerard moves swiftly across the room, taking no notice of us.

Mikey leans back in his chair and watches me curiously. "You've been acting weird lately." He states.

I shovel a bite of spaghetti into my mouth and shrug. "What do you mean?"

Mikey rolls his eyes at my lack of table manners and tilts his head to one side, studying me in a way that makes me feel awkward. I shift in the wooden chair uncomfortably and my eyes flit around the room, at once landing on Gerard. He's leaning against the counter, a Nightmare Before Christmas mug pressed to his lips, sipping cautiously at the hot coffee, watching me. He doesn't look away when I catch his gaze, which surprises me. He just...  _stares_. He looks relaxed by his posture, but his bright hazel eyes seem intense, grabbing ahold of my own and not letting go. After what must have only been a few seconds, I pull my gaze away and stare down at the table instead. I feel my face heat up, the pink staining my cheeks in an embarrassing blush, and try to focus on Mikey's words.

"You almost dipped your candy bar into spaghetti sauce," He says slowly, letting the strange sense of his words soak into my brain. I shrug again and he sighs. "Last week, you skipped three classes because you were too busy chucking up your guts in the nurses office."

"I'm always sick," I argue truthfully. "Miss Zimmerman knows that. I have a shitty immune system; Not my fault."

Mikey raises a single perfect eyebrow and for a split second I wonder if he plucks them or if they're naturally that well shapen. "Last Monday, I caught you eating raisin yogurt during in the middle of math class."

"So?" I wonder.

Mikey shakes his head at me dubiously. "You're lactose intolerant and you hate raisins."

"Maybe I just like food!" I exclaim, throwing my hands up melodramatically. "Maybe my allergies are kicking in and it's making me sick. Maybe one of the side effects of my Zyrtec is weird cravings. I don't know."

I hear Gerard's small chuckle and the simple noise sounds grating to my ears. I feel my anger toward him only amplify, knowing that he started the rumor that almost ended my relationship and now he's laughing at me. It pisses me off and I find myself glaring at him when he smirks and says, "Maybe you're pregnant."

I roll my eyes, annoyance now settling in. "And maybe you're an asshole."

Gerard's smile falters and his cockiness seems to disappear as he looks down into the black mug. I almost feel sorry for snapping at him, seeing the hurt that flashes quickly across his pale features.  _Almost_. And then I remember that he's the one that started the rumor and I lean back in my seat, folding my arms across my chest.

Mikey's only response is a short laugh as he stands and takes his empty bowl to the sink, nudging his brother's arm as he passes. "What if Gerard's right?" He muses. "You got baby Baker's in your belly. That would explain the sickness and the sudden weird eating habits." He turns on the water, letting it fill to the brim of the plastic bowl and mumbles in a lower voice, "And the reason you've been acting all bitchy lately."

I narrow my eyes at him before flipping him the finger, which he doesn't see because he's facing the other way. "I have a penis," I state. "Explain how I conceived baby Baker's with that."

Mikey turns around, waving his fingers in the air. "Magic." He grins and then lets his shoulders rise and fall in a slight shrug. "Or your butt, 'cause I'm pretty sure Zacky's not the one to take it up the pooper."

I close my eyes and slap myself in the forehead. Mikey Way; Bluntest motherfucker you will ever meet.

Gerard looks awkward all of a sudden and I think Mikey is imagining me with a ballooning stomach because he's grinning like an idiot as he stares into space. I simply shake my head again, bringing the conversation back to it's original point. "Like I said, I have a shitty immune system. I always have. Or maybe I had food poisoning or something."

Mikey shrugs smugly and sits down at the table once again, bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his lanky arms around them. "Well you won't know for sure unless--"

I shake my head once, my jaw clenched as I interrupt his words. "Michael James Way, I swear to God if you say it--"

"How do you know what I was going to say?" He feigns innocence and widens his eyes, amusement taking over his features.

"Because I know you," I say matter-of-factly. "And I am  _not_  doing it."

Mikey grins and I can see some humor in even Gerard's eyes as he smirks into his coffee mug. "Scared of the results, Frank?"

I sigh, rolling my eyes upward and giving in, knowing that this is going to be the only way to shut Mikey up now that the idea is in his head. "Fine." I finally say. "I'll take it. But  _you_  are buying the pregnancy test."


	18. C.h.a.p.t.e.r.1.8.

We looked like a group of dumb asses.

Four teenage boys-- two of which giggled manically the entire time, one blushing and hiding his face behind his skeleton gloves (that one was me,) and one who just looked highly amused by the previous three-- all looking like lost puppies as we shuffled into the convenient store.

Mikey had called Josh and Matt immediately upon my asinine compliance to take a pregnancy test. Matt didn't answer, oddly, but Josh had practically sprinted to the house in excitement. He was not going to miss the opportunity to see me make an utter ass out of myself. When I finally pulled jeans on, hearing both of my friends snickering behind my back, I mentally cursed myself for agreeing to this.

"I don't wanna do this," I said, falling onto Mikey's bed and crossing my arms like a sulking toddler. "I change my mind. You guys are assholes and I don't wanna do this."

Josh slunk onto the mattress next to me and I glower at his entertainment. He should not be finding the insane possibility of me being pregnant so humorous. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and gave me a mock-sympathetic smile. "You know, if it turns out you are having Zacky's baby, you should name him after me and Mikey because we would be awesome uncles.  _Joshua Michael Baker_. Has a nice ring to it, right?"

I shook my head, standing up and brushing his arm off as he tried to stifle another laugh. "Let's go do this," I said and jabbed a single finger at my flat stomach. "The sooner I prove you to guys that there's no baby in here, the sooner I can beat your ass in GTA."

My annoyance was replaced with nothing more than embarrassment when we finally saunter into the convenient store and Mikey leads us past a few isles in search of the pregnancy tests. I follow along, slightly behind Mikey and Josh as their eyes scan over the various brands and sales of the same damn thing; Expensive sticks you pee on. Seriously, some of this shit costs $20 for one freaking test! Mikey points to one brand that claims  _"it can tell you sooner"_  and snorts some smartass remark to which Josh cackles in return.

I glance nervously around the isle as if we're doing something wrong and notice the cashier is watching us curiously. I offer a small smile and feel myself blush before casting my eyes back down to the scuffed tile floor. I cross my arms, shuffling my feet and actually stepping forward to hide my body behind Gerard's, who only came along because we needed a ride, from the scrutiny of the woman behind the register. I notice that Gerard looks down at me when I do so, but I keep my eyes down, swallowing hard, before quickly glaring at Mikey and Josh. "Can you just fucking grab one?"

"We have to make sure we get the right one!" Josh exclaims. He's holding four separate boxes in his arms, studying them all to see if there's even a difference. "This is serious business, Frank!"

I roll my eyes and step up to the shelf, grabbing the cheapest brand I see and shoving the box into Mikey's hands. "There. Can we leave now?"

Mikey feigns shock. "You mean you don't want to take the test here?" He looks up at the employee at the front. "I'm sure that lady would be nice enough to let us use the bathroom for a few minutes."

I sigh, irritated, and turn to the older Way. "Gerard, make your brother pick a fucking test and let's  _go_."

Gerard's eyes widen a bit in surprise-- probably more than a little taken back by the fact that I'm asking for his help this time instead of calling him an asshole like this morning-- though the amusement is still very evident in his shimmering hazel eyes, seeming to glow under the fluorescent lights above. He opens his mouth a bit and shrugs. "What am I supposed to do?"

"You're the one that put this stupid idea into his head," I accuse. "You know as well as I do that I'm not pregnant." Gerard simply grins, his smile seeming contagious and repulsing all at once, but I settle with the latter of the reactions and sneer at him, my voice dropping. "You're a fucking prick, you know that Gerard? What is this, middle school? You pick on me because you like me? Grow up." His smile falters and I can hear that Mikey and Josh are no longer laughing about pregnancy tests, but I'm not nearly done. "I almost lost my best friend and my boyfriend because of you and all because you want in my pants?"

Gerard's brow furrows and he shakes his head. "What are you even talking about?"

I roll my eyes and I can feel my teeth grinding together. A wave of deja vu comes over me and I remember confronting Josh about something similar, right before I attacked and punched him. "I know you started the rumor," I accuse. "I know that you started telling people that Zacky being with me was a bet and it was because you were jealous. Because you wanted me instead."

Gerard laughs and tilts his head to one side, studying me. "Did Zacky tell you that?"

"He didn't need to." I stand my ground even though the way that his eyes rake over my body makes me feel uncomfortable. It reminds me of the first night with Zacky, my first time having sex; Laid out, vulnerable and exposed, except this time, I'm wearing clothes. And it's Gerard that watching me like that, not Zacky. "Remember two months ago, when Zacky confronted you in the boys bathroom?"

I don't have to explain more than that to make Gerard's face automatically pale. His steady gaze drops to the ground and his hands twist together in front of him. He watches his feet but I can see the humor disappear, replaced with timid flickers in his bright eyes as he bites down nervously on his lip. "You heard that?" He asks. The arrogance in his voice is gone, his words now laced with the shyness I remember always hearing.

I laugh once. "Yes."

He's not denying it. He's not lying and telling me that I misheard or that Zacky was lying. He was just...  _accepting_  it. It kind of surprises me, as I imagined more arguments from his side, some accusations of his own perhaps, but instead all I got was this.

"Look, Frank," He finally says after a long moment of tense silence. I do nothing but watch him, feeling somewhat shocked and even more betrayed. "It's not what it seems like."

I raise a single eyebrow, shifting my weight with the sudden urge to pee, but not willing to pass up on this confrontation. "It seems like you were jealous," I spit, crossing my arms. "It seems like you wanted me to break up with Zacky so that you could have me all to yourself."

Gerard looks up at me then, hurt and indecision revealed in his own emotion as well. "You don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"Then explain it to me," I shrug. "Tell me what I'm missing."

His eyes rake over my face once more before he swallows hard and averts his gaze again. "You wouldn't believe me even if I did."

He's right. I probably wouldn't believe a single word he said to me, especially if he was going to disagree with what I already knew. I don't have time to deal with it now, anyway, because it feels like my bladder is about to explode. So I turn back to Josh and Mikey who are watching us with the most serious expressions I've seen either of them ever pull off. "I have to pee. Can we go now?"

Mikey simply nods, cheap pregnancy test in hand, and leads us to the front counter. The cashier watches us curiously as she rings up the box, taking the five dollar bill from Mikey and glancing between each of us. "Who's the lucky dad-to-be?" She wonders absently.

Josh grins, placing his hand on my stomach and patting. "Are we gonna call you Mommy or Daddy?" He asks.

I shift away from his touch and accidentally bump into Gerard, instantly jumping away from the unwanted contact and the way he watches me through his eyelashes. I simply sigh and grab the bag from the counter, ignoring the woman's raised eyebrows, and leave the small store.

•••

"No, you pee on the purple end!" Josh snatches the thin stick out of Mikey's grasp and turns it around, handing it back to me.

I groan, wrapping my fingers around the purple cap and pulling it off, holding it up for both of them to see. "The purple part comes off."

"Then what the hell do you pee on?" Josh grabs the test back, turning it over in his hands while Mikey scans the instructions.

I bounce up and down on my feet, squeezing my legs together. "Somebody better tell me how the fuck this thing works before I pee on your floor."

"Oh, here it is!" Mikey says. He holds up the box, pointing to the very clearly printed directions on the back flap. I don't bother listening to what he says, just grab the stick and the box and run into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind me. My eyes skim the words on the box and I flip the test over in my fingers again, trying to match it up with the pictures. When I have it right, I fight with the zipper of my jeans for only a second before it gives in and I'm finally able to relieve myself.

I can practically hear Josh and Mikey pressed up against the wooden door, waiting for my answer, but as soon as my bladder is empty, I shake off the test, reattaching the purple cap, and set it on the counter, washing my hands and then leaning against the wall. Now time to wait.

"Are you done!?" Josh yells through the door and I sigh, crossing my arms.

"Start the timer," I command and I hear the various beeps as Mikey sets the timer on his phone for two minutes. I close my eyes, feeling tired all of a sudden, and rest my head against the wall.

Soon enough, Josh is pounding his fist against the wooden door. "Time's up, bitch! Show me them babies!"

I roll my eyes and move to the pregnancy test sitting on the edge of the counter. My eyes barely graze over the two thin lines that cut vertically through the square window and I unlock the door. I wave the test in the air before Mikey grabs it. I let him have the pee stick and fall onto the bed instead. "Told you I'm not pregnant." I mutter.

Josh laughs but my eyes land on Mikey, who watches me with wide eyes. "Dude, this thing has two lines on it."

I nod. "Yep. I'm so proud that you can count. Can we play video games now?"

Mikey shakes his head and disappears into the bathroom for a second before emerging once again, stick still in hand along with the box that I had previously tossed into the trash. His eyes scan over the words before he looks back at me and a grin stretches across his face. He hands the box to Josh, who also turns a wide-eyed gaze on me.

"There are two lines." He says. 

I roll my eyes. "Yes. There are two lines."

"Umm..." Mikey grabs the empty box back and hands it to me this time, pointing at the small cartoon picture. "Two lines, Frank." My eyes land on the words he's motioning at and I cock an eyebrow.

"Two lines means positive," I mutter. "That test says I'm pregnant."


	19. xix

I feel a slight pressure on my stomach. My teeth grind together and I shove the hand away without taking my eyes off of the tray in front of me. I try my hardest to focus all of my attention on the off-white foam, the way it clashes against the blue and grey mix of color that surfaces my usual table. I manage another bite, just getting the plastic fork into my mouth, when the pressure hits me again. It's so minute that I wouldn't have noticed it had it not been happening consistently since last night. I sigh and ignore the touch, figuring that it will go away soon. But instead, the hand on my stomach starts moving in circular patterns, rubbing what Josh and Mikey like to call my "baby non-bump."

I glare at Josh, who is scooted over on the bench seat, closer than normal. He simply grins at me. "If you don't get your hand off of my stomach, I will stab you in the eye." I hold the fork up for emphasis, the Ranch that clings to it somehow making my threat more intimidating.

Josh frowns at me but removes his hand regardless. He shifts his gaze to Mikey, who is currently seated across from us looking more than amused. "Don't mess with a pregnant man," Josh mutters in a low voice like I can't hear his words. "Those hormones got him all jacked up."

I sigh, exasperated, and throw my fork down. "I am not fucking pregnant!" I exclaim. Matt and Andrew, who are just sliding into their seats, cast me a curious look. Great. Now they think I'm crazy.

Before they have the chance to even ask what the hell we're talking about, Josh smiles slyly, interlinking his fingers and resting his arms on the table, his lunch long forgotten. "Frank is pregnant," He states like it's the most simple thing in the world.

Mikey, who has been silent until now, looks over at the new arrivals, narrowing his eyes. "I tried calling you yesterday," He says curiously, taking a drink of his milk. "Where were you?"

Matt shrugs and stuffs an overcooked french fry into his mouth. "Busy," He replies vaguely. "I had other plans." I can see the hint of a blush on his cheeks and he stares intently at the lunch before him. After a moment of awkward silence, he clears his throat and looks back up at me. "So you're pregnant, huh?"

I roll my eyes and cross my arms, pouting. "No. I am not."

"Not according to the test," Josh points a slim finger at me and I fight the urge to snap it off and shove it down his throat.

"Whoa, wait. What?" Matt laughs, an amused smile on his face. He leans forward on his elbows, now fully enveloped in the conversation. "You actually took a pregnancy test?"

I glare at him. "First, tell us where you were yesterday." I don't actually expect an answer, or much of one, but I want the attention to be shifted off of me.

Putting everyone's focus on Matt and his vague answers about his whereabouts seems like a good idea until he shrugs, not breaking my eye contact and says, "I had sex with Andrew. Did the test actually come out  _positive_?"

My eyes widen and I start to choke on my own spit. Way to be blunt, Matt. I shift my gaze to Andrew to see that his face has become as red as a tomato and he's watching Matt with an expression that clearly says ' _that is personal, asshole!'_  but he doesn't deny it. Josh and Mikey's attention is momentarily focused on the pair that sit across the table from me and Mikey is the first to react.

"What the hell?" He asks, his eyes bugging as well. "Like... Seriously?"

Josh shakes his head and waves both of his hands in the air, drawing the attention back to the previous conversation. "We can talk about those two later," He pauses and raises an eyebrow, pointing to each of them. "And believe me, we're definitely coming back to that. But for now-- Yes, the test came out positive. Looks like we have little baby Baker's in this tummy." Josh's hand once again attaches to my stomach and he looks at me like a proud mother.

I shove his hand away and shift away from him, which is complicated because I'm already on the edge of the bench and if I go over any farther, I'll be sitting on the ground. Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing. Sure everyone would look at me like I'm crazy for eating lunch on the gross floor but at least I'd be away from Josh and his insistent touching and  _aww_ ing. But I resist the urge to move my seat to the ground and play with the tab on my half-empty can of Pepsi. I twist the metal around and around, pulling up and letting go, allowing the echoing clack of aluminum when it hits the can. "It was just a faulty test," I argue, not willing to meet any of the pairs of eyes I can feel boring into me. "Like, seriously. You bought the shitty brand that was like two bucks. I am not pregnant."

"You know," Andrew says casually, waving a forkful of salad at me. "When a dude takes a pregnancy test and it shows up positive, it can be a sign of testicular cancer." He shovels to food into his mouth and my heart nearly jumps out of chest. The nonchalance that hangs in his voice almost covers up the fact that he just suggested that I could have  _cancer_. Almost.

My eyes widen measurably and I can tell everyone else has turned their attention to him as well. Nobody speaks for a long moment and Andrew watches his lettuce, not even noticing the tensity that has suddenly surrounded our table. I'm the first one to speak, finally finding my voice in the midst of the panic that racks my brain. "What did you just fucking say?" My voice reveals the terror I feel building inside of me and I notice that Josh turns to me in the bench seat but I pay him no mind.

Andrew finally looks up and stops chewing mid-bite, only now noticing that everyone aside from Josh is gawking at him. He swallows the rough bite but has no chance to speak before Josh pipes up. "He's not serious, Frank," He says, though he glances at Andrew. "Right?"

Andrew looks awkward, sliding his glasses up farther on his nose. The silence that erupts when he opens his mouth to say something seems deafening and I find myself wanting to scream at him. He closes his mouth, opening it again and I can't help the imagery of a fish that pops into my head. "Well, it's just..." He hesitates and moves his hands around in front of him, making awkward gestures that have no resemblance to his words. "Well, guys aren't supposed to have the hormones pregnant women do. When a pregnancy test comes up positive for a guy, it can indicate something wrong  _physically_. Like testicular cancer."

"I have fucking cancer!?" I demand, gaping at him.

"No, you don't," Josh replies. His voice is defiant and sure but I can't seem to focus on him. My head is spinning. This was supposed to be a joke. A fucking  _JOKE_. And now...

I can hear someone yelling but the vertigo overtakes me in the same moment. I want to throw up but I couldn't make it to the bathroom if I tried, my eyesight seeming to go out of focus and making me see three of everything. Three Josh's are hovering over me in a second and it takes me a moment to realize that I've fallen off of the bench but by the time the thought occurs to me, everything is going black and all three Josh's disappear.


	20. Twuntee

Everything is fuzzy. My body feels stiff, my mouth dry, my head pounding. Darkness covers everything and my first reaction is to panic, feeling every urge to scream and flail, though my limbs and lungs seem useless. That, of course, only incites more panic.

_Okay, Frank. Remain calm. What's the last thing I can remember?_

Oh yeah.... Lunch.

The memory comes back to me in the same instant that I hear the voices, echoed and muffled through the wall. I strain to make out full words, but only succeed in sending more pain vibrating through my head. I groan, this time sound escaping me, and bring a hand up to my head, wanting to still the spinning black that blankets my sight. Maybe if I open my eyes, the vertigo will go away.

I peel up my lids, ignoring the ache in the forefront of my head, only to see that the room is spinning, too. My mind barely registers the pale white walls and various filing cabinets before I'm jumping off the cot and racing to the attached bathroom. Dropping to my knees, I wrap both of my arms around the sleek porcelain and begin coughing up everything I've eaten in the past few hours. My stomach clenches and my throat burns. I wince as the bile stings at my nose, my nails digging across the smooth material as I itch to grab onto something. I clamp my eyes shut, the white light pounding down on me making them hurt.

When the coughing settles into dry heaves, and soon panting breaths of thick air, I rest my forehead against my arm. I don't want to move but my legs feel twisted and uncomfortable under the weight of my own body. After a moment's thought, I scramble to my feet, staggering and almost falling back onto the hard linoleum. When my feet are back beneath me, supporting me though the counter keeps my balance, I dare to open my eyes again. The spinning has calmed for the most part but my stomach still churns sickeningly and I swallow hard against the heaving that threatens to pulse forward again.

I take only a moment to rise my mouth in the sink, trying to chase the second taste of my lunch away, before staggering back into the nurses office. I slump back onto the brown cot, the vinyl fabric squeaking against my jeans. My eyes drift closed and silence fills the room. This time, I can make out some of the voices from before.

"...think before you open your fucking mouth." This voice is Mikey and he doesn't sound very happy.

"I didn't know..." Andrew's voice is so quiet that I can barely his his words. "I didn't think it was such a big deal."

"Andrew's right," Oh, that's Matt. He sounds pissed, trying to restrain himself from raising his voice too much. It's strange to hear him on the verge of yelling when he's normally so calm and collected. "It's not his fault. Leave him the fuck alone. None of this is his fault."

"Mikey's got a point, though," Josh speaks up. There's a tense moment of silence and I can imagine the others glaring at him. "Just think about it from Frankie's perspective, Matt. Andrew just suggested he has  _cancer_. That's not something you take lightly. What if--"

"No," Mikey pipes up, his voice louder and more defiant. "Do not even go there, Josh."

I swallow a few times in the silence, trying to dislodge the sudden lump in my throat. I know what they're about to say even before Josh's barely audible voice echoes too loud through my ears. "What if Andrew's right? What if Frank has cancer?"

"I can let them in if you want to stop eavesdropping." Miss Zimmerman's voice, though not loud, makes me jump. I hadn't realized she was there, but suddenly she was standing at the entrance. She leans casually against the door frame, arms crossed, her black hair framing her dark features as a amused smirk plays at the corner of her lips.

I sit up, running a hand through my hair and thinking over her offer. Do I really want to face all four of them just yet? It might stop them from bitching at each other in the hallway, but I don't think I'm ready to see them at the moment. So I shake my head, looking down at my lap. "Did you call my mom?" I wonder.

Miss Zimmerman comes farther into the room, latching the door closed behind her and moving to take a seat behind her cluttered desk. She crosses her legs, leaning back, and shakes her head. "Nope." I let out a relieved sigh and lean back against the wall. "But I will if you don't tell me why you passed out in the lunch room."

I let out another breath of air, this one a slight groan. "I have baby Bakers and testicular cancer," I say, deciding that being blatantly honest would be the best route to take. But when her dark eyebrows shoot up and she looks at me like a concerned mother, I want to quickly change the topic at hand and bite down on my lip. "I want to talk to Mikey," I say. "Just Mikey."

Miss Zimmerman hesitates and for a second I think she'll oppose, but eventually stands and moves to the door. Opening it, she disappears around the corner before Mikey steps into her place. He stands in the doorway, looking awkward and cautious, so I slide over and pat the mattress beside me. After closing the door, he joins me. 

Silence is the only thing between us for what seems like hours though only minutes pass. It takes me too long to build up the courage to say the words I never imagined myself saying, tears brimming in my eyes when I finally turn to face him. "Do you think he's right? Do you think I have cancer?"

I bite down hard on my lower lip, willing it to stop quivering. Mikey shakes his head fervently and wraps a comforting arm around my shoulders. I choke a little and a small sob escapes me. "No," Mikey says. "Andrew is not right about this." His voice is convincing and for a fraction of a second, I believe him. But then I look up and the uncertainty in his eyes makes me break down. He actually looks scared, his hazel eyes flecked with the terror he feels at the revelation; I could actually have cancer.

Mikey waits silently while I cry myself out. I don't care about how much of a pansy I look like. I'm allowed to cry, dammit. I'll admit it; I'm scared to death. He rubs his hand over my back, trying to calm me down. When the sobs settle into hiccups and the tears stop coming, I sniffle, wiping the back of my hand across my face. Now comes the next question, a question that I don't think I'll ever be prepared to answer, but ask anyway. My voice is thick and stuffy but I have to know. So I bite my lip and force the words forward. "What do I do, Mikey?"

•••

My fingers hover above the keys, my palms resting on the rough wooden table beneath the computer. I find each letter with my eyes, mentally tracing the outline of each one, though I can't bring my hands to actually type the words. Finally, I push my chair away from the desk and shake my head. "I can't do it."

Mikey's face reveals nothing as he nods and shuffles his own chair across the carpet. His spindly fingers move swiftly across the keyboard and I look away. My cell phone vibrates in my pocket, thankfully catching my attention though my heart jumps the second I see who it's from.

_Where are you? -Z.B_

Zacky. I'd been avoiding him since I passed out in lunch and now, ten minutes after school, I guess he was getting worried.

"Look at this." Mikey says and I type a quick response to Zacky, letting him know I'm in the computer lab, before scanning the page over Mikey's shoulder. He's scrolling through a Wikipedia page and my eyes only catch certain words and phrases, many of which I can't actually pronounce. My heartbeat accelerates and panic starts to settle in, making my stomach turn over again and I have to swallow against the bile. Do I really want to know what the page says? Am I ready to hear the facts of what may be my only ultimatum? Do I really have a choice...?

" _In the United States, between 7,500 and 8,000 diagnoses of testicular cancer are made each year,_ " Mikey relays the information. " _Testicular cancer has one of the highest cure rates of all cancers: If the cancer hasn’t spread outside the testicle, the 5-year relative survival rate is 99%. Even if the cancer has grown into nearby structures or has spread to nearby lymph nodes, the rate is 96%._ "

Mikey turns his head to face me and a grin stretches across his face. "That's good, Frank," He tells me. "That's fucking incredible. That means that, if Andrew was right, then it's not necessarily terminal. You can get it treated."

But I can't bring myself to be happy. The worry still twists my stomach, clenching in painful knots. I simply motion to the computer screen. "Keep reading."

Mikey abides, scanning through the article before continuing aloud. "Diagnosis; It says there should be some sort of lump, but mistaken diagnosis can delay treatment. That's happens up to 25% of the time." He glances back at me and he looks awkward. "Do you..." He hesitates and looks for the right words before sighing. "Do you have any weird lumps in your balls?"

There's the blunt Mikey Way I know and love.

I roll my eyes and bite down on my lip again. At this rate, it's going to have a new hole by nightfall. I shrug, exasperated, before exclaiming, "I don't know!"

Mikey sighs. "You know what this means, right?" He asks and I shake my head, not because I don't know what he's referring to, but because I know  _exactly_  what he's talking about.

"No," I say. "I'm not going."

"You have to, Frank."

I shake my head again. "No. I am not going to the doctors."

Mikey tilts his head to one side, watching me with a poker face. "Then what do you want to do? Wait until the cancer spreads and your dick falls off?"

My eyes widen and my mouth drops onto the floor. "That can't actually happen, can it?" I turn my attention back to the computer screen, looking for any sign that he's not joking.

Mikey sighs again and rolls his eyes. "Just go to the hospital, Frank. What's the worst that could happen?"

I shoot him a glare, knowing damn well what the worst could be. My jaw clenches and my fingers tap against the tabletop. "I'm overreacting," I decide, though the shaking that seems to practically rock my body doesn't cease. "It was one fucking test and I am overreacting because of a simple statement."

Mikey nods slowly, thinking this over. "True," He allows. "So what do we do? We could go to the hospital and have them test you, or we could go buy out the pregnancy test aisle of the Speedway and you can drink your body weight in water."

I contemplate both options, honestly hating them both, when Zacky appears in the doorway. Mikey quickly exits out of the webpage and I stand. Throwing my bag over my shoulder, I walk across the room to my boyfriend. "Hey," He greets and leans in for a kiss, though the gesture does nothing to ease the worry that now racks my brain.

I force a smile as Zacky's hand finds it's place wrapped around my own. Hitching my bag up again, I turn to Mikey. "You and Josh buy the stuff. Don't get the shitty brands this time. I'll meet you at your house at four."


	21. Chapter 21!!!

"Are you sure you're okay?" Zacky probes. He's leading me down the abandoned school hallways, away from Mikey and the computer lab, but the thoughts that harass my mind can't be left behind so easily.

"Hmm?" I look up at him and realize I've been biting my thumb nail for the past two minutes straight. I cram my hand into the pocket of my jacket and force a sad excuse for a smile, nodding. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Zacky sighs and looks away, keeping his eyes forward. "Did Josh do something to piss you off?"

I narrow my eyes in confusion. "No. Why would you say that?"

"Because you seemed fine until lunch." Zacky shrugs, aiming for nonchalance but coming out stiff. "And then you avoided me the rest of the day. And then I find you holed up in the tech lab, searching something you obviously didn't want me to see." Involuntarily, my body tenses-- How did he know? Zacky rolls his eyes. "I saw Mikey exit out of the page as soon as I walked in. What were you looking at?" I don't answer. I want to; I don't want Zacky to think I'm lying to him. But I'm not sure of anything right now. I just found out that I could have testicular cancer. As much as I want to trust Zacky and share this newfound information with him, I can't bring myself to do it just yet. When I know for sure, I will tell him. But telling him my theories would mean telling him that my friends convinced me to take a pregnancy test-- The friends that Zacky already dislikes. No. Keeping this to myself is what's best for now. "Are you and Mikey hiding something from me?"

_Yes_.

"No." Dammit. My voice sounds unsure and Zacky casts me a sideways glance. I sigh and bite down on my lip. This time, it's my turn to look away. I shrug and think over my words before daring to speak aloud. "It's seriously nothing, Zacky. It's just... Mikey's helping me with some personal stuff..." I let my words trail off, not really what else to say that wouldn't be a bold faced lie.

We've reached his bike by now, and he fumbles with the helmet in his hands, watching me with an unreadable expression. I shift under the gaze and force myself to retain eye contact. Zacky's jaw clenches and then loosens again. "And you can't tell me what this personal stuff is...?"

I purse my lips and shake my head ever so slightly. "Not yet," I admit.

Apparently Zacky isn't happy with this answer, as he snorts and rolls his eyes, thrusting the helmet into my hands and climbing onto the bike without another word. He revs up the motorcycle as I mentally punch myself for being such an idiot-- I should just tell him, but I can't bring myself to form those seemingly simple words, so I settle with sliding the helmet on and climbing onto the back.

The ride seems longer than usual, my brain racked with pressing thoughts of what I'm going to do. I am about to take a thousand pregnancy tests to determine if I in fact have cancer. Well then. Never thought I would say that, even if it's to myself. When the motorcycle finally stops in front of my house, I climb off. I don't expect Zacky to turn the key in the ignition, the engine stopping as he pulls his own helmet off.

"I don't wanna fight," He says. His fingers tap against the black material of the head gear, his hazel eyes searching mine.

I feel a smile tug up the corners of my lips. "Me either. I hate fighting."

Zacky smirks and his hand fists in the front of my shirt, tugging me closer so he can capture my lips in a soft kiss. It's just a peck at first, but he keeps me there and I feel his tongue slide against my lower lip. I chuckle and pull away, shaking my head. "I gotta go," I say. "I told Mikey I would meet him."

Zacky looks disappointed and pulls me back in. After another short kiss, he mumbles, "Come on. Let's just hang out here."

I pull away again. "I really can't." His jaw clenches and I feel a pang of guilt. "I'm sorry, babe, but I seriously have something to do."

"Yeah," He replies in a dry voice, letting go of his grip around my waist and I stumble back a step. "You have to go see your friends. Because evidently they know things you can't tell me."

"Zacky--" I begin to protest, but he interrupts me with the shake of his head.

"Whatever. It's fine." He makes a move to slide his helmet back on, but I grab his arm, making him look at me. The last thing I want is for him to be mad at me about this. But when his eyes meet mine, it's in a glare.

"Zacky, please. Don't be pissed about this--"

"I said it's fine," He repeats and jerks his arm away from me. My arm falls limply to my side. "Have fun with your friends. I'll call you later."

I doubted his words, but I didn't want to fight anymore. So I settle with a small nod as he slides his helmet on over his head. "I love you," I tell him.

Zacky doesn't reply, simply revving the engine and peeling off out of the driveway. I tell myself that he just didn't hear me, but I don't believe that and let my head fall forward. I curse myself once again for being the shittiest boyfriend in history before going inside to drop off my bag, grabbing a water bottle and heading out again. I can't think about Zacky right now. I have more dire things to deal with, like pissing on a stick to determine my fate.

•••

"I am about to pee on your floor." I bounce on the balls of my feet for emphasis and wave my hand in front of Mikey's face. He tugs on the top of the box, struggling to get it open. "Hurry up, dammit! I need another one!"

"Got one!" Josh exclaims and tosses the thin blue stick in my direction. I don't even have time to thank him as I race toward the bathroom, just barely getting my zipper down in time. I pull the cap off of the stick and hold it under the stream, leaving it for a few seconds, before reattaching the cap and tossing the test onto the counter. It's been three hours and this is pregnancy test number thirteen.

I don't look at the tiny screen when I finally grab the test from the countertop and take it back into Mikey's bedroom. Handing it to Josh, he glances down at it, scribbles the results onto his handy-dandy sheet of paper, and throws it into the trash bin with the others. Mikey and I had dubbed Josh the  _scorekeeper_. We figured that, if I was seeing the results as we went, I would either get discouraged or get my hopes up with each test. So Josh tallied up what each test divulged and he would tell us the final positive and negative outcomes when all of the tests were gone.

Thirteen down. Six more to go.

I fall back onto Mikey's bed and groan. It's horrible waiting, not knowing what's going to happen, and relying on a stupid pregnancy test to reveal such a vital thing. I find my mind wandering back to my fight with Zacky; I hadn't lied to him, per se, but he knew I wasn't telling him the entire truth. As much as I wanted to tell him, though, I couldn't. If this turned out to be nothing more than a faulty test, then he would be worried over absolutely nothing. And if this was actually cancer... I couldn't let myself finish the thought, the very concept making me jump off of the bed and bite down on my lip. "I'm going to get more water," I mumble and all but run from the room.

When I get to the fridge, throwing the door open and searching through the contents, I hear the sound of feet against linoleum behind me. I immediately tense and grab a single bottle of water. Turning, I let the door fall closed and come face to face with Gerard. He's closer than I thought, standing only about a foot away from me, and I automatically step away, my back hitting the fridge door.

My mouth feels dry suddenly and, though I have a full water in my hands, I only twist the bottle in my grasp as he tilts his head to one side. Just watching me. I haven't spoken to Gerard since my first encounter with a pregnancy test and I was hoping to avoid him even longer. But now I can't seem to move.

He's clad in plain black sweat pants-- Nothing else. His exposed chest rises evenly with his breaths and I can't help the way my eyes skim over the pale flesh, all the way down to his bare feet and then back up to meet his hazel eyes.

He arches a single brow. "Are you just gonna stand there and check me out? Because you're kind of in my way."

_Jackass_.

I roll my eyes and breath out heavily. "Well I would have moved if you weren't acting like fifty shades of pedophile right now," I retort. "It's called personal space. Heard of it?" I make a small gesture with my hand to get him to move away, but his reaction is the exact opposite. Gerard takes a tiny step closer, his hazel gaze never leaving mine, and his ascending proximity makes my breath hitch. "What are you doing?" The words are barely forced from my mouth in a sigh of air, terror and excitement both swelling up around me and making it hard to think straight.

Another step. His chest is so close to mine, the warmth of his body radiating and hitting against me like a wave, and his face is tilted down to look directly at me. But he's not stopping. His breath hits my cheeks though he passes by my lips and lowers his mouth to my neck. His words are like ice, feeling cold through his warm sigh against my ear, when he whispers, "You look nervous, Frankie. Do you think your boyfriend would be jealous that I make you hotter than he does?"

And then he leans away, grinning and looking proud of himself.

My teeth grind together and my fist clenches around the bottle now held at my side. "You are a complete jackass," I spit.

Gerard shrugs, his smile not faltering.

I shake my head, anger now bubbling up inside of me. "Go to hell, Gerard." I push past him, storming toward the stairs. I can't deal with him right now. He's trying to confuse me. He started the rumor; He's trying to make me doubt my relationship with Zacky. But that doesn't explain why my heartbeat is suddenly more rapid, my palms feeling sweaty. I thought he was going to kiss me. I imagine his thin lips on mine, pale pink skin moving in a slow, perfect rhythm, heated and slick with saliva. Wait...

_What the hell?_

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. I feel exhausted all of a sudden and blame my inapporpriate thoughts on nothing more than my stress. I have more sticks to pee on and an already pissed boyfriend to deal with. Dealing Gerard's bullshit is  _not_  on my to-do list. So I don't know why it bothers me so much when I glance back into the kitchen to see him leaning against the counter with a vacant expression on his face and an aura of sadness shadowing his usually vibrant eyes.


	22. 22

"And the results are..." Josh peeks up at me and Mikey over the top of his notebook, blowing some of the blue hair out of his identically colored eyes. "Drum roll, please."

I groan as Mikey just rolls his eyes. Josh sighs, exasperated, when neither of of comply, but raises the paper again. "Fine. Bitches. The results are..." He pauses again and I contemplate punching him once more. He's building up the suspense and I just want to know the damn results; Do I have cancer or not? I think he sees this in the way I glare at him and Josh is about to continue when Mikey's bedroom door swings open, revealing none other than Gerard.

"Whatcha doin'?" Gerard wonders. I notice that he's put a shirt on by now as he leans against the door frame and crosses his arms.

"We're busy," Mikey responds, not even bothering to cast a glance in his brothers direction.

Gerard raises an eyebrow and his gaze sweeps across the room only to land on the pile of empty boxes scattering the floor like confetti. A grin stretches across his pale lips and he laughs, his eyes flickering to mine. I look away, trying to become invisible but only succeed in turning what I'm sure is a very appealing shade of red.  "Aww. What's wrong, Frank? Your baby Baker's starting to kick? You look kind of constipated."

I glare at him once more and grind my teeth together, but before I have the chance to chew him out, Mikey speaks up. "Stop being an asshole, Gee."

Gerard snorts once and shifts his gaze to his younger brother. "I'm an asshole because Frank actually believes he could be pregnant? I was  _joking_."

"Fuck off," I spit in his direction, though I don't have the balls to actually look at him. "This isn't about your stupid joke."

I see Gerard's brows raise, dubious, and he chuckles. "Really? Then why are there twenty used pregnancy tests in the trash bin?"

"It's none of your fucking business!" I snap, finally breaking under the stress. I jump to my feet and move to the boy across the room. I see nothing but red as I shove his slender frame into the wall. He's taller than I am, but he doesn't put up a fight and I easily have him pinned with my own body. His hazel eyes widen and he looks stunned. "None of this is any of your business!" I snarl from between clenched teeth. "Not my relationship with Zacky or what objects I decide to pee on. Can't it be bad enough that I'm hiding things from my boyfriend? He's pissed at me right now because I'm too scared to tell him the fucking truth. It's none of your damn business if I'm pregnant or if the results turned out positive because of some other reason because it's all a fucking joke to you! Is it still a joke if it turns out that Andrew was right and I have  _cancer_!? Are you still gonna be laughing when I'm going through chemotherapy or laying on an operating table getting castrated!? It's not a fucking joke anymore, Gerard! So you can stop laughing and just leave me the hell alone, okay!?"

I don't notice when the crying laces through my screams. Everything seemed to come out at once, a wave of honesty and emotions all surging forward, and I couldn't hold anything back. I wasn't just mad at Gerard, I was mad at everything; Why did it have to be me? Why did the initial test have to turn out positive? Why couldn't I have a normal freaking relationship without all of this shit? I let the sobs rack my body, not moving away from Gerard because I can't seem to control my own actions. It's only when the sympathy takes over his features and he reaches out a single hand to touch my shoulder that I regain control and jump away, snarling at him. "Don't fucking touch me."

Gerard shakes his head sadly and takes a small step closer. "Frank, I didn't know all of that."

I let out a short laugh and try my best to hold back anymore of the waterworks. "Yeah, well now you do. So can you please just leave me alone? I was in the middle of something."

I realize then that Josh and Mikey are watching with no emotion from their place on the comforter. Josh still clutches the determining paper in his hands and Mikey's are folded in his lap. Gerard only sighs, looking down at the ground. "You can't trust those results."

I ignore his words, crossing my arms and just glaring at him. It's Josh that speaks up, glancing nervously down at the sheet and back up to the older Way. "Why not?"

Gerard sighs again, this time a gesture that indirectly states ' _I am dealing with a bunch of idiots._ ' "Because twenty tests within five hours is too many," He explains. "Frank's pee would have been too watered down to give an accurate reading. The hormone it measures needs to be potent enough, otherwise the results could be defective."

I feel unsteady all of a sudden. So all of the tests I took-- it was all for nothing. None of those can tell me if I have the hormone or not. I'm back in square one, with no effing idea what's happening to my own body. I feel nauseous and my posture wavers, the room seeming to spin in an instant, though as soon as the vertigo blankets, I feel Gerard's arms around me, holding me up. I blink a few times, trying to clear my head, before shoving him off of me. I stumble in the process but miraculously manage to keep on my own two feet. "I told you, this is none of your business," I say, giving him my best glare. 

Gerard bites down on his lip and helplessly holds a hand out toward me. "I just wanna help, Frank."

I roll my eyes and lean against the wall, not trusting myself to keep my balance. "You've helped enough, thanks. Your bullshit rumor? That was a  _huge_  help."

Gerard's jaw clenches and relaxes before he turns his attention to his brother. "Can I have a minute alone with Frank?" He asks, but doesn't wait for a response. His hand wraps around my wrist and I'm pulled out of the room. I try to fight him, but my rush of dizziness is still making me feel a bit unsteady and I'm dragged along behind him. Gerard leads me down the familiar hallway before pulling me into what I assume is his bedroom, closing the door behind us.

I've never been in his bedroom and take a quick glance around as he releases his grasp on me. A few posters hang along the pale cream colored walls, giving light-- or rather,  _dark_ \-- to the dullness. A desk is cluttered with various half finished drawings and a shelf near the wall is lined with books and comics. Gerard watches me uneasily for a second before nudging me in the direction of the bed, where dark sheets scatter the mattress, unkempt. "You look like you're going to throw up. You should sit down."

I cross my arms again, the only defiant gesture I can muster at the moment, but abide. When I'm seated on the mattress, Gerard paces the floor silently. After a minute, he falls into the chair near the desk and turns to face me. Leaning forward, he rests his elbows on his knees and chews on the inside of his cheek.

"I'm sick of you being upset with me because you think I started that rumor," Gerard states. One of his legs bounces, the rest of his body moving with the motion. "I didn't start the damn rumor, okay? The rumor was started by some junior chick that asked Zacky to go to Synyster's party with her. She got all pissy when he rejected her and decided to make up some shit that would make you both look bad. Is that what you want to hear, Frank? Are you happy now that you know the truth?"

I hesitate. In all honesty, I'm not mad about the rumor anymore. I stopped being mad about that a long time ago. The thing that still bothers me is not knowing the truth about it; Who started it and why? What did anyone have to gain from it? Why does everyone keep lying to me about it? There's no proof that what he's saying is the truth, but the sincerity in his eyes is hard to doubt, so I settle with asking something else instead. "If that's true, then what was the fight in the bathroom about?"

It's Gerard's turn to hesitate and he looks down at his hands, clasped together in his lap. His leg bounces again, a nervous gesture, before he turns his gaze back to me. "You won't believe me. It will just make you more upset."

"I'm hitting the  _upset limit_  right about now, Gerard," I groan. "So just fucking tell me."

I watch him silently while he has some sort of internal battle. His tongue runs across his bottom lip and he taps the tips of his fingers against his knee. "Tell me something first," He finally says. I nod a little, silently urging him to go ahead and ask. Gerard tilts his head to one side and watches me with a curious gaze. "What do you see in Zacky? Why are you even dating him?"

I shrug, not breaking the eye contact I have with the older boy, and reply easily, "I love him. He's..." I search for the right words to describe Zacky Baker. He's attractive. When he talks to me, it's like I'm the only person in the world. When he touches me, it's like I'm on fire. He makes me feel special. I sigh. " _Perfect_."

"Perfect how?" Gerard presses and I sigh, figuring I might as well entertain him if it's going to get me some answers.

"I've had a crush on him since the beginning of Freshman year," I admit. "He just always seemed to have something alluring about him. He comes off as the bad-boy type-- The motorcycle, the piercings. It all just made me want to know him more. But he's not a bad guy." I laugh softly, now lost in my own little world, thinking of everything Zacky. "He's sweet. For our one month anniversary, he had this whole thing planned out, with champagne and a fancy steak dinner and--"

I'm interrupted when Gerard raises an eyebrow. " _Steak_  dinner?" He asks. "You're a vegetarian."

I'm actually taken aback-- How did Gerard know that? "Umm..." I try to focus on giving some sort of intelligent response, but he's got a point. Still, the entire ordeal sounded incredible. "He just forgot," I stammer. Gerard doesn't look convinced, so I hurry on. "Anyways, he's always there for me, you know? When I need something, he's there."

"How?" Gerard inquires again, though he looks genuinely curious.

I sigh. "How what?"

"How is he there for you?" He elaborates. "What does he do for you?"

My mouth feels dry as I try to recall a single time when Zacky has actually been there for me. When I got in trouble with Mr. Benson and had to clean the tarantula's cage, it was Mikey that came to my rescue, not Zacky. When I had a fight with my best friend, Zacky's advice was to " _forget about it._ " Every time I was upset about something, Zacky's only comfort was sex.

I rack my brain for anything between us that didn't lead to sex, but in the end came up with absolutely nothing. And that scared me. I look back at Gerard, who simply watches me, still waiting for a response, one that I now don't want to give.

"This is stupid," I say and push off of the mattress. Hovering over Gerard, I shake my head. "If you don't want to tell me what went down in the bathroom, fine. But I'm done answering your stupid questions."

Gerard stands up as well, facing me with an unreadable expression. "I'll tell you what happened in the bathroom whenever you're ready to hear it," He says. "But for now, I think you need something else." I wait, unsure of what exactly he's referring to. If he suggests kissing me, I'm going to punch him in the throat. But he just bites down on his lip and asks, "Do you want me to take you to the hospital to get the test done? The professional one that doesn't include twenty pregnancy tests?"

I think it over, searching his eyes for any sign that he's screwing me over in the bargain. But he's not asking anything of me; He's offering to help. He probably knows what's on the line for me; Blood tests. Doctors. Parents. Oh god, my parents. They have no idea I even have a boyfriend, let alone that I've had sex, taken a billion pregnancy tests, and may possibly have cancer. And Gerard knows that I won't be able to face all of it alone, as well as the fact that he's the only one between Mikey, Josh, and myself that has a car.

At first, I think of it as burdening; I don't want to rely on Gerard and I don't want to trust him. And yet somehow, I already do. So I just swallow hard and force a stiff nod in response to his previous questions, knowing that I not only  _need_  him to help me with this, but I  _want_  him to. "Yes."


	23. Chapter 23 *_*

"No, fuckface, you're sitting in the backseat."

"No I am  _not_. I'm your brother. I'm older than him. I called shotgun. I am sitting in the  _front_."

"Do you want to sit in the trunk, Michael? Because that can be arranged."

The not-so-quiet whispers are silenced when I appear at the edge of the driveway, causing both of the Way brothers to look up at me. Mikey's features have fallen into his usual poker face with only a hint of annoyance, while Gerard only offers me a pleasant smile. I cock an eyebrow at them, fixing the bookbag strap that's slung over my shoulder and shifting my weight awkwardly.

"Um... Hi?"

Neither of the boys move for a long second, both of them continuing to watch me with unnerving gazes, before Mikey sighs and curses under his breath. He opens the car door and shuffles into the backseat of the Malibu, leaning back and crossing his arms like a sulking toddler.

Gerard just smiles again and silently makes his way to the drivers side, leaving me to awkwardly climb into the passengers seat.

The ride to school is uncomfortably silent and I spend the whole time gazing out the window. My mind wanders to last night-- My revelation that Gerard isn't trying to ruin my relationship and my bladders adventure with pregnancy tests. The thought twists in my mind, making my stomach clench in knots and my head feel fuzzy as I remember what today holds.

As if fate can tell exactly what I'm thinking, the car pulls into a parking space in the school lot. Mikey immediately scrambles out of the backseat and I reach for the door handle to follow when Gerard grabs my arm. Usually, I would jerk away from the unwanted contact, but now it feels kind of reassuring. "Can I talk to you?"

I glance back at Mikey who just shrugs and says, "If you're late to first period, I'm not covering for your ass." He closes the door and I laugh, knowing he'll cover for me no matter what he says.

Turning back to Gerard, I shift in the seat, unsure of what to say. I simply wait for him to talk.

"I spent the entire night on Google," Gerard informs me. "I was trying to find all the details of how to go about getting the test done. It turns out that you can't just waltz into a hospital and tell them you want a blood test done without some paper from a doctor."

"But  _they're_  doctors," I interrupt, sighing. "Does that mean I have to go to a doctor's office to get a piece of paper that tells me to go to more doctors? That's stupid."

Gerard nods easily and leans back in his seat. "Trust me, I know. But I found some medical center in Atlantic City that will do the test without that."

I can't stop my shocked reaction, my eyes widening and nearly bulging out of my skull. "Atlantic City? That's like two hours from here."

Another nod. "Look, if you want to go to the doctor's office first, get the paper, and then go get the test done, that's fine. I'll take you. But that would mean making an appointment, insurance cards, the possibility of your parents finding out--"

I shake my head, cutting him off. He had me at "making an appointment." I can't wait that long. "I wanna go today." Biting my lip, I try to sound less anxious and sink back a little into the seat. "I mean, that is if you'll take me today."

Gerard smiles softly. "Of course I will."

•••

I spend most of the day in the nurses office. I don't want to face Mikey or Josh, I'm avoiding Zacky like he's contracted the Black Plague, and going to class seems like the worst idea in the world. Twelve minutes into second period, I decide I am 100% done with today and ask for a pass to the nurse. The teacher comments on how pale I look as he scribbles his signature on a post-it note and hands it to me before sending me off.

When I first walk into the familiar white room, the bland walls lined with educational posters advertising certain vaccines and showing muscle and skeletal make-up, the room is empty. I drop my bag on the ground, sticking the pass to Miss Zimmerman's computer screen, and fall onto the uncomfortable cot. By the end of second period, Miss Zimmerman as come back, simply saying hi before we fall into silence. I can hear the buttons being pushed as she types away on her keyboard, doing whatever it is that nurses do when they're not tending to sick students or hiding out in the teachers lounge. It's calming in a monotonous way and I feel myself slinking toward unconsciousness within a matter of minutes.

I wake up toward the beginning of seventh period, sitting up straight on the makeshift bed and groaning. Rubbing my eyes, I realize I only have two more classes to go before the end of the day and the start of my nightmare of blood work. As I look around, I notice again that the room is abandoned, looking the same as before aside from a Styrofoam tray placed neatly on the edge of Miss Zimmerman's desk. As I shift closer, I catch sight of a note, too.

****_Frank,  
Your boyfriend brought this by since you missed lunch.  
-Miss Z_.

I feel my lips tug up into a smile and slide across the cot, grabbing the tray and pulling it into my lap. I rip open the ranch packet and overturn it onto the salad. Poking at the food, my stomach tenses into knots. I find my fingers tapping anxiously on the brown cot and I keep glancing at the clock on the wall. The second hand seems to tick slower, getting caught on some invisible string and staying in the same place, though the minute hand spins faster and faster with each passing moment. It's like the time has both sped up and been stopped and in that moment, everything is overwhelming. My head is pounding, spinning with the possibilities; In mere hours, I will be getting blood work done to determine whether or not I have testicular cancer. Just yesterday, I felt like my relationship with Zacky was falling apart. I didn't want to tell him what was going on in my head and possibly in my balls, but he was there for me right now. Just something as simple as bringing me lunch was his way of showing me that he actually cared. Maybe I could tell him. I didn't have to keep it a secret from him. He would be here for me.

The bell sounds, making me jump as I realize I've been contemplating this for the past hour and a half. I dump my still unfinished lunch in the trash and grab my bag from the ground. I have to meet up with Gerard, but I think I have enough time to find Zacky first. I scan the halls for him for a moment before my eyes land on him, shoving books into his locker. I grin and walk up to him. I lean against the locker next to his and hitch my bag up farther on my shoulder. "Hey."

Zacky glances down at me, his face expressionless, before focusing back on his books. "Hey."

"Umm..." I rack my brain for something intelligent to say and motion aimlessly with one hand. "I actually have to be somewhere," I state. "But I just wanted to say thanks."

Zacky raises an eyebrow and shakes his head. "For what?"

"For lunch," I bite down on my lip and offer him another smile but he still looks clueless. Slowly, my smile fades and I find myself explaining more. "Miss Zimmerman said you brought it by. I missed fourth period-- I was in the nurses office most of the day."

"I didn't get here until fifth period," Zacky says. He sighs heavily and closes his locker, leaning against it and crossing his arms. "Do you want to come over tonight?" But the tone in his voice sounds like he's already prepared for rejection.

I shake my head and it feels like I physically get smaller under the intensity of his gaze. "I can't," I say. "I have something to do."

"With Mikey and Josh?" He assumes dryly.

I bite down on my lip, knowing I can't lie to him and preparing myself for his reaction to my next words. "With Gerard, actually."

Zacky laughs, a far from joyful sound. Sarcasm laces his words like venom. "Awesome. You're ditching me for the guy who started a rumor about you."

"No, it's not like that," I argue, rolling my eyes and shifting against the locker. "Technically, I had plans with him first, so you cannot be pissed at me for ' _ditching_ ' you. And second; He didn't start the rumor. I talked to him. He explained everything. You don't have to be all overprotective boyfriend because he didn't do anything wrong."

Zacky watches me with cynical amusement painted across his features. "Whatever. I don't care. Have fun." And then he turns and walks away, leaving me fuming and more than a little hurt. Why can't he just fucking understand that there are some things I can't tell him? I have friends, Gerard being one of them even if he doesn't accept that. I can't have time for only him.

I stand there for a minute longer before I realize the halls are clearing out. I push my feet forward angrily and find Gerard's car easily in the near-vacant lot. He's already waiting in the driver's seat. I climb into the front seat silently and stare out the window. Gerard, taking the hint that I don't want to talk, starts the car and pulls out of his parking space. As the Malibu stops near the exit, I can't help but shift my gaze to Zacky's usual spot. He leans against his motorcycle for only a second longer before handing a helmet to the person next to him and climbing on, Synyster Gates getting on after and wrapping his slender arms around my boyfriend's waist.

•••

Silence fills the car for all of three miles before I decide I'm done with the humiliating thoughts that assault my mind, images of Zacky and Synyster together seeming to haunt me, and I shift in the seat. Crossing my arms against my chest, I move my gaze from outside to Gerard. I'm fully prepared to ask him to turn on the stereo, but hesitate when I actually see him. He's staring straight ahead, both of his hands wrapped around the steering wheel, and he looks absorbed in his own thoughts. I think about speaking, but I find that no words come out for a long second and I just watch him. The sun illuminates his jawline, outlining his features with the bright white light that filters in from the window beside him and casting shadows over his hazel eyes. He glances over at me and I immediately look away, embarrassed to be caught staring. I feel the blood rush to my cheeks and mentally kick myself.

"Are you okay?" He asks.

I force a nod, avoiding his eyes, and looking out the window instead. "I'm going to get tested for cancer. My boyfriend doesn't trust me. I've been lying to my parents for the past two and a half months about having said boyfriend and cancer. Oh yeah, I'm just peachy."

"Frank..." Gerard says my name so quietly I'm not even sure I hear it at first, but when I glance over at him I catch him watching me, looking back to the road every few seconds. "Everything is gonna be okay."

I shake my head and bite back the tears I can feel threatening to come over. "How can you know that?"

"I don't," Gerard admits. "But I know that you're not alone in this. I don't know about Zacky, but you have other people that care about you. Mikey and Josh-- They're here for you." He sighs, his next words a mere breath. " _I'm_  here for you."

I take a breath and nod, swallowing past the lump that's settled in my throat. Before things can get too sappy, Gerard clears his throat and taps his fingers on the wheel. "I read online that you're supposed to eat before going to get blood drawn," He says. "I brought lunch by the nurse's office but I don't know if you got it--"

"Wait," I interrupt, my brows creasing as I studied him. "It was  _you_  that brought me lunch?"

Gerard nods. "Yeah. I figured you would be hiding out with Zimmerman and when you weren't in lunch..." He shrugs, his words trailing off and this time it's his turn to avoid to my eyes.

"Oh..." My mouth feels dry and I don't really know what to say. Gerard brought me lunch. Gerard knew where I would be, he knew that I would want only salad. Somehow, he knew all of these things about me that I'd never even mentioned.

Maybe he wasn't lying when he said he was here for me.

"Thank you," I manage in a soft voice. Gerard glances over at me, not replying aside from the small smile that graces his pale pink lips, but that feels like enough.


	24. Twenty-Four

It's nearly 5:30 in the evening when the car pulls into the small parking lot. It's not quite the attractive center that Atlantic City advertises-- The brightly lit condos, buzzing casinos, and clean beaches-- but more of a suburb of the larger area. An average sized building is laid out before us, surrounded by houses and trees and pavement, with a plain white sign that indicates this is  _Atlantic Medical Clinic_.

When the engine turns off and Gerard begins climbing out of the car, my heart immediately stutters. It's time. This is the moment I've been dreading. I have to force myself out of the car, but that's as far as I get before panic sets in. I can't move my legs, I can't even breathe. Suddenly it's like every part of my body has stopped working besides my mind which is racing with anxious thoughts.

Gerard appears at my side. "Are you ready?"

"No," I admit before biting down on my lip. "But standing here staring at the sign isn't going to give me any answers."

Not even ten minutes later, Gerard and I are sitting in a miniature waiting room with an elderly couple and a woman who is attempting to calm her fussing toddler. I watch the ugly blue carpet, studying the stains and trying to get my pounding heart to slow down.

When the large white doors are pushed open, a doctor revealing himself on the other side and calling my name, I have the sudden urge to throw up and sprint from the building. But then my horrified gaze meets Gerard's calm expression and I take a deep breath. Standing up, I hesitate. I don't want to go. I don't want to know if I have cancer because I'm terrified of what the results may be. 

"Do you want me to come back with you?" Gerard asks and, almost without thinking, I nod. More than anything right now, I don't want to be alone. It's calming just to feel Gerard's presence beside me as we're led through the blinding white halls into a tiny room. It feels too small suddenly, crammed into the room with this stranger, and I quickly latch onto Gerard's hand with my own. And then, just as quickly, I realize my actions and pull away. Gerard glances over at me and I look down, shifting my weight and focusing my attention on my Converse.

"Frank, correct?" The doctor, who I just now take the time to look at, smiles. He looks young, with slightly tousled brown hair and smooth skin. He's the epitome of every Dr. Sexy ever created, but I can't focus on that right now.

It takes all I have to nod. "Yes."

"Please, sit." He motions to the table behind me, the uncomfortable brown cot beckoning me with it's crinkly white covering and metal stool. I abide, clasping both of my hands and bouncing my knee anxiously. "I'm Dr. Webb." I don't reply, not sure exactly what he expects me to say. "What brings you here today? The paper you filled out says you want blood work done...?"

He leaves the statement open, making it into a question, and I glance at Gerard for help. Oh god, how am I supposed to explain this? But Gerard just smiles and speaks up. Suddenly I feel like I'm a kid again, asking my mom to tell the doctor how sick I was.

"A few days ago, our friends convinced Frank to take a pregnancy test," Gerard explains smoothly, no hesitation in his words at all. "We all thought it was a joke at first, but then the test came out positive." Doctor Webb just nods without a word, his pen hovering above the paper that he holds as if he's prepared to take notes. "And then someone told us that a positive result could be a sign of cancer."

Doctor Webb nods again, his gaze moving to me. "That's true," He says. "Pregnancy tests measure human chorionic gonadotropin, or HCG. It's a hormone that's released when an egg is fertilized for reproduction. When pregnancy isn't a factor, such as this case, HCG can signal us to other causes. Testicular cancer is a rather common cause." I bite down on my lip, trying not to freak the fuck out. Hearing it from someone in his position, someone medically trained in this field, is terrifying. It seems too real.

"However," The doctor continues. "We don't want to jump to any conclusions based on the readings of a pregnancy test. There are always mistakes. What we'll do today is take some tests and try to see if anything is out of the ordinary, okay?" He smiles, the gesture not helping one single bit, but I nod regardless. "First, some regulation questions, alright? Your age?"

"Sixteen."

"Do you smoke or drink?"

"No," I reply quickly, but he glances up at me with a doubtful smirk and I sigh. "I don't smoke. I drink on occasion. I haven't had a drink since Syn's party, though, so..." I look up at Gerard for verification. "March twenty-first."

"And I can assume you're sexually active?"

Again, I nod. "Yes."

"Alright," Doctor Webb puts the clipboard on the counter and stands up, coming to face me. "Usually when testicular cancer is present, there's a strange lump on the area." I recall Mikey reading something of the sort from Wikipedia and rack my brain for any other information he may have relayed to me. "So perhaps we should start there." He glances at Gerard and back to me.

"I can wait outside, if you want," Gerard speaks up, catching onto where this is heading. He takes a step toward the door but I shake my head quickly. I know exactly what's about to happen and I don't care. Gerard is  _not_  leaving me here alone.

"Okay," The doctor nods again and I stand up. Gerard stands awkwardly near the wall while Doctor Webb pulls two rubber gloves from a box on the counter, sliding them on. He motions down and raises an eyebrow. "I'll make this a fast as possible. Pants, please."

I sigh, feeling embarrassed and scared, and unbutton my jeans. I let the denim and fabric of my boxers fall to my ankels. I can't look at him, instead averting my gaze to the wall only to land on Gerard. He looks to his side, giving me a small amount of privacy while still keeping my anxiety down below freak-out level. I jump when I feel the latex gloves on me, prodding and poking and squeezing uncomfortably. I try not to focus, watching Gerard the entire time.

"Alright," Doctor Webb finally moves away and I pull my pants back up, Gerard turning his gaze back to us. Sliding the gloves off and sticking his hands into the sink, the doctor talks. "The good news, I don't feel anything abnormal. Everything seems fine. However," He turns back to face me, his face not expressing anything other than the fact he speaks. "That doesn't mean there's nothing wrong. I'd like to take some blood and have some tests done, just to be sure."

I nod and sit back up on the table. Paper crinkles under my weight, filling the silence with it's sound. "I'll have to get the equipment and I'll be back in a just a few minutes." Doctor Webb offers one last smile before disappearing out of the room, leaving Gerard and I alone. I sigh heavily, letting my head drop forward. I don't notice Gerard has moved until he speaks, now standing directly beside me.

"This is good, Frank," He says. "If there's no lumps, that could mean no cancer."

"Or it could mean cancer without lumps." I run both hands over my face, wishing it was anyone else that was in this position. Why did it have to be me? Why couldn't I be fucking normal for once?

It's silent until Doctor Webb returns, syringe and a few test tubes present this time. From the corner of my eye, I see Gerard cringe away, but he says nothing. More gloves are snapped into place before Doctor Webb faces me. "I'll be taking two tubes today, just to be sure we have enough to test on," He explains. He pulls out the syringe, tugging a thin plastic cover off of the needle and attaching the first tube. "Ready?" He asks.

I don't answer. I've never had a problem with needles before, they've never bothered me, but suddenly I want that thing as far away from me as I can get it. I swallow hard, prepared to start screaming bloody murder, but feel a hand settle on my leg. I look down, seeing Gerard's hand where it rests on my knee. He turns over one of my hands and I look up into his eyes. "You can do this, Frank," He says, smiling his reassurance. "Don't pay attention to that. Just look at me." I feel his fingers wrap around my own and nod. Squeezing onto his hand, staring into his hazel and amber specked eyes, I barely feel the prick when the needle violates my vein, stealing my precious internal fluids.

"All done." For a second, the words don't register-- I'm too focused on Gerard. But when he smirks and nods toward the doctor, I realize that the syringe is laying defenselessly on the counter beside two tubes of my stolen blood. Doctor Webb grabs ahold of the tubes and holds them up for us to see. "I'll have these sent to the lab right away. I have your number here," He motions to the paper I filled out before coming in. "And you should be getting a call within a few days." He smiles and moves to the door, resting his hand on the knob. "Did you have any more questions?"

I shake my head, as does Gerard, and the doctor nods. "Alright. Then I'll be talking to you in a few days."

He opens the door, allowing Gerard and I to go first. I stand up, moving toward the door and outside to the parking lot before I realize I'm still holding Gerard's hand. I quickly pull away and feel a blush light up my cheeks. "Sorry," I mumble.

Gerard just smiles, pulling the car keys from his pocket. "It's fine." He unlocks the car but I hesitate.

Then, without giving it anymore thought, I wrap my arms around Gerard's waist. Slowly, his arms find their place around my shoulder and I bury my face in his chest, finally letting the tears I've been holding back to so long come forward only to be lost on his shirt. "Thank you," I mumble. "For everything."


	25. Capitolo Venticinque

"No way, Batman would kick Superman's ass!" I can't believe this man has the audacity to say that Clark Kent could even compare to Bruce Wayne. It's blasphemy!

"Oh yeah," Gerard says, laughing. "If you took away all of Kent's powers. I mean, he is a _super_ hero for a reason."

"Please, all Batman would have to do is Krytptonite that bitch and he's done for." I lean back in the seat, watching the smile play across Gerard's features and feeling a similar gesture of my own.

"And how exactly is Batman supposed to get Kryptonite?" Gerard wonders. "Fly his little BatMobile up to Krypton? Call up Commissioner Gordon and ask for some sent to Wayne Manor?"

I laugh at the thought of that and hold a hand up to my ear, pretending to be on a phone. "Yo, Commissioner. Bruce Wa-- Um. Batman here. I need you to send some of your people to space and find a shit ton of Kryptonite. No questions. Bring it to Wayne Manor. Alfred will know what to do."

"But Batman!" Gerard continues, picking up on Gordon's part of the conversation. "I'm only on the police force. Perhaps the Transformers are better suited for this task."

I find myself laughing again and shake my head. "Inconceivable!"

Gerard looks over at me, his face twisted into a grin. "How the hell do you go from Batman versus Superman to The Princess Bride quotes in a matter of point two seconds?"

"It's how my mind works." I shrug and shoot a wink in his direction.

Gerard's face flushes in the dim light that surrounds us from outside and he quickly turns his attention back to the road stretched out before us. Oh shit, did I just wink at him? Nice going, dumbass... 

"Umm..." I clear my throat awkwardly and think of something else to say. "So how close are we?"

"About twenty minutes outside of Belleville," Gerard guesses. I glance at the clock on the dashboard to see it's already nearly ten'o'clock. Getting stuck in rush hour back home put us even later getting back, but the entire ride was filled with conversation. At first, it started out awkward. I was still half-crying when we climbed back into the car, but when Gerard put music on the stereo, the silence fell into casual talk. It started when I asked if he had any Morrissey. He immediately got excited and pointed to a CD case stuffed in the backseat, filled with albums ranging from old school Misfits to the Fall Out Boy album that came out a few months back. I finally had picked one out and suddenly we were talking about the Smashing Pumpkins concert that we both attended a few years back. Somehow, that turned into Batman and Superman and, three hours later, here we were.

The phone in my pocket buzzes with life and I look around confused, completely forgetting there was life apart from the two of us inside the car. I pulled the cell out, putting it to my ear without checking the ID. "Hello?"

"Are you still having fun with your boy-toy?" The voice on the other end asks bitterly.

"Zacky?" My brows crease and my face falls. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the fact that I'm bored and I want to see my boyfriend," Zacky sighs. "Are you still with Gerard?"

"Yes," I admit. "Look, we had something to do down in Atlantic City and--"

"Atlantic City?" Zacky asks, clearly surprised and somewhat upset. "Why did you go down there?"

"I had something I had to do," I repeat, keeping my answers vague. "But we're heading back. We should be home soon."

"So you'll come see me?" He asks, his voice sounding rather demanding.

I bite down on my lip and slink back in my seat. "I was thinking about just heading to bed," I admit. "It's getting late and I'm exhausted."

Zacky lets out a short laugh. "Well, what did you do to get so exhausted, Frankie?" He wonders and I can hear the accusing tone in his voice.

I grind my teeth together and glare out the window. "What the fuck are you insinuating, Zacky?"

"Come on, babe," Zacky continues in a hard voice. "You've accused me of cheating before. Now it's my turn-- Why the hell are you with Gerard?"

"Because he's my friend," I spit. "And right now, he's being a much better friend to me than you are." And with that, I hang up the phone, keeping the end button pressed in until the cell shuts off completely, and cram it back into my pocket.

I cross both of my arms and lean back in the seat, fuming. How the hell can he even accuse me of something like that? I would never cheat on him. Sure, I may be keeping a few secrets, but it's not like I'm lying to him. I'm not telling him what he wants to hear. I'm keeping some things to myself. That's not a fucking crime. It's not a good basis for accusing me of  _cheating_.

Gerard glances over at me, all previous humor gone. "Everything okay?" He asks cautiously.

"No," I reply bluntly. "My boyfriend is being a little bitch because he doesn't like you. He doesn't like me hanging out with you. He doesn't like  _any_  of my friends. He doesn't like my Batman sheets or that red spider lip ring Mikey got me for my birthday. The way I commentate my favorite parts of movies. How I eat the ends of Kit-Kat bars first and then the middle. That I sing the guitar parts of songs or like to cuddle after sex. He even stopped holding my hand in between classes." I let my voice trail off, saddening with the realization of how much Zacky  _doesn't_  like about me. I laugh humorlessly. "Is there anything he  _does_  like about me?"

"Your smile," Gerard says and his voice, even soft, makes me jump. I forgot I was talking out loud. I forgot that I wasn't alone. I glance over at him, confused, and raise a brow, but he's not looking at me. "He likes your smile," Gerard explains. "I mean, it's impossible not to." He laughs and his lips raise up in their own smile. "It's kind of contagious. Even when you try not to smile, your mouth just kinda twists up on the one side. Or when you get really excited about something and it lights up your entire face. Your eyes get all squinty and you make the most adorable sound when you giggle."

Gerard glances over at me and smirks. "Like right now. You're trying not to smile. But your lips are are pressed together right there," He motions to my mouth with one hand, making me realize he's stopped the car in front of my house. I make no move to get out. He swallows hard and his eyes move back my lips before flickering to my eyes again, his voice lowering in the quiet atmosphere. "There's so much to like about you, Frank. If Zacky doesn't see that, then I don't think he deserves any of you."

I find myself watching his mouth, the way his lips form to say my name. Biting down on his bottom lip, rolling into an R, his tongue moving only slightly near the end. There's no piercing like Zacky's lips, seeming so pure and unscathed. So tempting...

"I should go," I say suddenly. I hadn't realized I was leaning forward and I pull away, biting down on my lip and offering a small smile. "Umm... I'll talk to you later, I guess."

"Yeah," Gerard nods quickly. "You'll tell me when you get the call right?"

I let out a laugh. It's hard to imagine not telling him after what I've been through with him today. "Of course." I clamber out of the car, all but running into the house. It takes everything I have not to slam the door, but somehow I manage to get it closed quietly, before sliding my back down the wall and taking a shaky breath.

What the hell is going on with me?

I see the image again of Gerard's lips, the glimmer of dark hazel under the streetlight. His eyes were darker than Zacky's, more amber and gold splattered against the pure emerald iris. Zacky's were a pure, crystal green, nearly reflective at times. But Gerard's held more depth, something deeper than the clear hue. Something that drew me in and mesmerized me, drowning me in the swirl of hazel.

And then I hear his words...

 _If Zacky doesn't see that, then I don't think he deserves any of you_.

The thought scares me in so many ways. Before I had Zacky, he was this alluring guy who held all of my attention. He was mysterious and enticing. When we first started dating, he was passionate and caring. But now....

Now he was slipping away. He was  _pushing_  me away and I think I was doing the same. He was demanding and maybe I wasn't willing to give him what he wanted. And yet somehow I wasn't willing to let him go, either.

I love him.

_Don't I...?_


	26. Territorial Pissings

I lean my forehead against the metal locker, hating the rush of familiarity when I slam it forward again. It feels like I've been in this situation before. I've fucked up and I don't know how to fix it. So I've resorted to helplessly beating my head against the tarnished yellow locker, attempting to literally knock the thoughts out of my head. But I only succeed in getting lightheaded and nauseous. What the hell is up with this nausea? Is it a symptom of cancer? Like possibly having some malignant tumor in my balls wasn't enough, let's add a weak stomach and vomiting into the mix.

Zacky has been avoiding me since my trip to Atlantic City. He won't answer my calls or texts. I've left him a total of twenty-three voice messages in the past six days and so far, the most contact we've had was when I practically cornered him at his locker on Thursday and tried to explain. He shoved past me and went to class without a single word. I even tried going to his house, but his mom told me he was out with a friend. At the time, I had contemplated calling him and acting like an over-possessive boyfriend, but that idea faded quickly when I realized that would only push him away more. So I waited for him to come to me.

It's Tuesday now, and he still hasn't spoken to me.

The final bell rings and I look up as students file into the hall. I can feel the bump forming on my head from my fight with the locker, but ignore it and make a beeline for Zacky as soon as my eyes land on his familiar form. I cross my arms, standing beside him, but don't speak. After a second, he sighs, glancing at me. "What?"

"You've been avoiding me," I state. I try to make my voice sound tough, but some of the hurt I feel sinks into my words.

"Yes," Zacky admits and more pain shoots through me. "You've got new friends to spend time with. You don't need me."

I roll my eyes and shift my weight. "Bullshit, Zacky. I told you that it isn't like that."

Zacky pushes his locker door closed and turns to face me. "Then what's it like?" He demands. "You don't want to come see me because you've got plans with Gerard. You won't tell me where you're going or what you're doing. What the fuck am I supposed to think?"

"You're supposed to  _trust_  me." I emphasize the word trust, irritated by the accusing tone that laces his words. "You want the truth? I have some shit going on right now that I'm not ready to share with you."

"But you can share it with Gerard?" Zacky's forehead creases. "Why? What is so private that you can't tell your own boyfriend?"

I sigh, defeated. He has a point. I should be able to tell him these things. He should be the one to take me to the medical center and hold my hand when I'm getting blood drawn. Not Gerard. I close my eyes. "Can we go back to your place?" I ask. "I'll..." I take a deep breath, slowly letting it out and looking back at Zacky. "I'll tell you everything."

Zacky hesitates before nodding and turning down the hall without another word. I try to ignore the pang in my chest when his hand brushes mine but he doesn't make the move to intertwine our fingers. 

•••

My heartbeat involuntarily accelerates when the motorcycle comes to a stop in front of Zacky's house. When I climb off, I follow him inside and upstairs to his bedroom, trying to decide exactly how I'm going to tell him what I need to. I take a seat on the edge of his bed as Zacky closes the door and turns to face me. One leg bounces somewhat spasmodically as I search for words. "Umm..." I look up at Zacky and force a smile. "Can you sit down? You're making me nervous just standing there."

After a second, Zacky folds his arms across his chest and moves to sit in the desk chair a few feet away. Again, I ignore the distance and bite down on my lip. "Two weeks ago, my friends were joking around-- that's all it was, was a joke. Mikey was talking about how bitchy I was being and some weird eating habits and Gerard thought he was being funny when he suggested that I was...  _pregnant_."

Zacky sighs irately and rolls his eyes. "You can't be pregnant, Frank. You're a boy."

"I know," I glance up at him before looking back to my hands and still bouncing leg. "But they thought the idea of it was hilarious. Mikey and Josh thought it would be funny if they made me take a pregnancy test. And it came out positive."

Another quick glance at Zacky. He looks bored as he watches me. I am spilling my fucking secrets to you, you asshole. The least you could do is pretend to be interested. But I don't say anything about his reactions, just carry on with the story. "Well, it was all fucking hilarious until Andrew told us what a positive test could mean."

"And...?" Zacky prompts, motioning impatiently with his hand for me to continue. 

"And it could be a sign of--" My words are choked now. Tears are swelling again in my eyes and I feel panic building inside of me. Telling Zacky my theories makes it all the more real and I'm not sure I'm ready for it to be real. But when I look up at him through tear stained vision, I feel the need to explain myself. I need him to trust me, even if it means putting every secret, every fear, on the line for him to see. "It can be a sign of cancer, Zacky." I finally manage. "I might have cancer."

Zacky's facial expression changes very minutely from no emotion to slight confusion as he watches me. "Where does Gerard fit into this?" He wonders.

I sigh. "Gerard knew I took the pregnancy test in the first place," I explain. "He was there when I didn't know what to do. He took me to Atlantic City to get the professional test done to find out for sure."

"So," Zacky says after a long moment of silence. "You're not fucking him?"

I scoff and throw my hands in the air in exasperation. "No! I told you I love you, Zacky. I do. Why the hell would I cheat on you?"

Zacky doesn't answer, instead pushing out of the chair and moving to me on the bed. His lips meet mine in a heated kiss, the touch laced with the urgency from not having touched in quite some time. I breathe in the scent of him, taking in the taste and feel of having him near me. It feels so right. He presses on my shoulders and I follow the movement, lying back on the unkempt blankets. His tongue grazes my lips and he deepens the kiss. Almost instantly, his hands attach to the waist of my jeans, pulling at the button and sliding the zipper down.

In all honesty, I don't want to have sex right now. I'm completely content with just the warmth of his body so close to mine, but his hips grinding down into mine shows that he obviously wants this to go farther. Before I have the chance to protest, my phone sounds in the quiet room and I push back on him. Zacky doesn't budge, keeping his lips on mine as he speaks. "Let it ring," He mumbles.

But I can't. I shake my head, and push again. "I can't," I say as he sits up and rolls off of me with a sigh. "It might be the doctor." I search my bag for the cell, finding it in a side pocket and pulling it out. I don't recognize the number and slide the key over, pressing it to my ear. "Hello?"

"Mr. Iero?" The voice sounds familiar and my breathing nearly stops. "This is Doctor Webb from Atlantic Medical Clinic."

"Yes!" I exclaim, trying to even the intake of air in my lungs and calm the pounding of my panicking heart. "I mean, yes. That's me. Did you get my test results?"

"I did," The doctor says, but his voice his neither happy nor sad and I can't tell what the results may be. "I was actually wondering if you would mind coming back in to see me so I could discuss them with you properly."

Another two hour drive to Atlantic City just to hear yes or no? "Umm..." I try to muster something coherent, biting down on my lip anxiously. "What did they say? Do I have cancer?"

"I would seriously appreciate you coming back in," Doctor Webb says again. "There are some things I think we should discuss in person."

"Oh fuck..." I mutter, feeling the terror settling in the pit of my stomach at the realization of his words. "They were positive."

"Not in the way you'd expect," He mumbles, but I'm not really focusing too well. "Like I said, Frank. I'd really like to see you again. Please. Would tonight be alright?"

I nod dumbly and then realize he can't see me. "Yeah," I choke out between my teeth. "Yes, tonight is fine. I'll be there."

We hang up and I turn back to Zacky who lies back on the bed, watching the ceiling. "That your doctor?" He wonders.

"Zacky," I manage. "I think they're--"

I can't form words. I can't think straight. I can't even breathe correctly. Why the hell is this happening to me!? Zacky simply waits, not saying a word. Not bothering to ask me if I'm alright or tend to the tears that are now spilling over. And that's when I realize what I need. I quickly fumble with the keys on my phone, standing up and grabbing my backpack from the floor. "I have to go," I say and, before Zacky can reply, I show myself out.

The line isn't picked up until I reach the driveway, closing the front door behind me and nearly collapsing under the weight of this entire situation. "Hello?" The voice on the other end finally says.

I fight back the sobs that are shaking me and take a breath. "Gerard. I need a ride to Atlantic City. Please."

There's no hesitation at all when he replies. "Of course. Where are you?"


	27. Twenty.Seven ツ

I can't stay still. Waiting in Zacky's driveway is driving me crazy. The tension, the panic, the terror; It all swirls in one massive emotion in my stomach and I need to move. It's been a whole three minutes since I've called Gerard to come pick me up, but the waiting is making me sweat. I can't even imagine what the two hour drive to Atlantic City will hold.

I absently step forward a few steps, my eyes on the ashy colored pavement beneath my feet. But what begins as pacing quickly turns into a walk as I move away from Zacky's house and down the sidewalk. I keep my eyes cast down, my mind more focused on what lies ahead within the next few hours rather than where I'm actually going at this moment. The sudden hand on my shoulder surprises me and I jump away from the contact, spinning on my heels as my breath catches. I sigh in relief when I see Gerard, though his features are etched with concern. "Are you planning on walking to Atlantic City?" He wonders. I look around at my surroundings and realize I've wandered quite far from Zacky's house.

I shake my head and mumble a sorry. "I didn't mean to-- I was just..." I shrug. "I was just walking. I didn't want to stay there."

Gerard frowns, nodding slowly regardless, and places his hand on my arm. This time, I don't jerk away. I allow myself to be led to the car parked on the side of the road, still running idly. I climb into the passengers seat, pulling the belt across me and closing my eyes. It's silent for a moment as Gerard joins me and the car pulls away from the curb. But the silence becomes too much soon and Gerard's voice fills it. "Did something happen?" He asks in a soft voice. "Between you and Zacky?"

I shrug again, not bothering to open my eyes. I like the dark that I see. It takes me away from the shit that's going on right in front of me. "He didn't say anything," I admit. I hear the sadness lacing through my own words, the tears threatening to come forth. "I told him everything-- About the pregnancy tests and the cancer and he was there when Doctor Webb called me. And he just... He acted like he didn't even care." I manage to open my eyes to slits, looking at Gerard through the tear stained vision. I wipe a hand across my nose and sniffle in a very attractive manner. "He barely even looked at me. When I got the phone call, he just watched me leave."

Gerard bites his lip, glancing sympathetically at me. I can tell he wants to say something, but nothing comes out. What is supposed to say right now? I'm sorry? It's not his fault, and he knows that. Before he can respond, though, my phone makes it's presence in my pocket known and I pull it out. Zacky.

I answer the call and press the phone to my ear. "What?"

"Babe--" Zacky starts and I flinch against the concern that now sounds in his voice. "Where did you go?"

"Atlantic City," I say. "The doctor called me and I got the results. You were sitting right there, dumbass."

"I know," Zacky sighs. "I heard. I could have given you a ride--"

"Gerard's got it covered," I reply in a harsh tone. "Don't worry. You can go back to not caring."

"You think I don't care?" His voice has a hard edge to it this time and I can imagine the way his jaw clenches. "Why the hell would you think I don't care? My boyfriend might have  _cancer_  for fuck's sake. I care."

I laugh humorlessly and roll my eyes. I shift in the seat and move my gaze to glare out the window. "It sure seemed like it," I say, laying the sarcasm on thick. "The way you acted like a fucking zombie when I realized the results are  _positive_."

Zacky sighs again on the other end and his voice drops lower, barely a whisper over the line. "I didn't know what to say," He admits. "How am I supposed to react to that? I was scared."

" _You_  were scared?" I laugh again, incredulous. "Did it occur to you that I'm fucking  _terrified_?" I shake my head, very aware that he can't see me. "I can't deal with this right now,  Zacky. I'm on my way to see the doctor and find out everything for sure."

"Come home," Zacky says. "Just turn around and come back. I can drive you, okay?"

I shake my head again. "No," I say softly. "Look, I'm not mad at you, Zacky. I'm scared and I'm tired and I just--" I sigh and bite my lip. "I just want Gerard with me right now. Alright?"

There's a long silence and I wait for him to say something, but when I look down at my phone, I realize he's already hung up. I hang up, leaning back against the headrest. I stare out the window, watching as Gerard merged onto the freeway. Grass and buildings blew by in the distance and I tried to focus on anything but what comes at the end of this drive.

After a long minute, Gerard clears his throat. I glance over at him. He looks awkward, staring straight ahead with his forehead creased in concentration, though I think his thoughts are on something other than the road. "I'm sorry," He finally says. "I don't really know what happened, but I know you're upset and I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry."

I shrug. "I hate sympathy," I admit. "It's not your fault. Why should you say sorry?"

"Because I'm not apologizing for the fight you had with your boyfriend," He says. His words are soft, almost like he's talking to himself. "I'm apologizing because I still haven't told you what happened in the bathroom between him and I." He looks over at me. I can see the battle that's taking place behind those deep hazel eyes as he tries to decide whether he should tell me or not. But when he offers me that choice, I know exactly what to say. "Do you want me to tell you what happened?"

I shake my head and lean back in the seat. "Not yet." I confess. "I don't think I'm ready to know just yet."

Gerard nods and looks back to the road. "Why don't you try to sleep? We have a long drive ahead of us."

I don't think I'll actually sleep, but when Gerard flicks on the radio and turns it down to a sensible volume, I find unconsciousness taking me quite easily.

•••

"Frank?" My shoulder shakes slightly and I push away from the touch, burying my face into the headrest and grunting sleepily. "Frankie, you gotta wake up." The shaking comes again and this time, I open my eyes slightly, narrowing them to see who dares wake me from my precious nap. But when I catch sight of Gerard's face, leaning over me, everything comes back quickly and I remember where I am. Why I'm here. I sit up, rubbing my eyes and stretching. Sleeping in the front seat of a car; Not the best choice I've ever made. "We're here," Gerard says, offering me a small smile.

"Did I sleep the whole drive?" I ask. Sleep makes my voice thick and I have to clear my throat, trying to get rid of the husky tone.

Gerard smirks and nods. "Yeah. All two and a half hours."

I let out a chuckle. "I'm horrible company."

Gerard just shrugs, looking timid, and averts his gaze. "I know you've been going through some shit," He says. "I don't mind. Plus, you do this weird snorting thing when you sleep. Your nose gets all crinkly. It was kind of entertaining." He tries to hide his grin, but the blush is undeniable. I can't help the smile that makes it's way onto my own lips as I watch him. After a second, he shakes his head. "Shall we?" He motions to the building I see across the parking lot. The sign is lit up already though the sun is still lurking in the sky.

I take a deep breath and force a nod, mustering all of the courage I have to push the car door open and climb out into the evening air. It's cooler than it should be, considering it's the beginning of June, but I write it off to the proximity of the ocean. "Are you ready?" Gerard asks, appearing at my side.

I nod again and take the first step forward.

The lobby is abandoned when we get inside. The receptionist smiles from behind her desk and I let Gerard step up to her, staying close behind. "We're here to see Doctor Webb," He says. "He requested we come in."

The lady's eyes shift to me, then back to Gerard. The lipstick smile never disappears, even when she looks down at her computer screen. "Name?"

"Frank Iero."

The woman clicks her tongue and scans the screen slowly. "Oh, here you are. Doctor Webb should be expecting you. I'll call him up."

I wait quietly while the nurse stands and makes her way behind the closed door to her left. Within only a few moments, she reappears. The doctor whom I remember as Webb is close behind. He acknowledges Gerard with a small nod before turning to me. "Mr. Iero," He smiles happily, reaching out a hand for me to shake. Without much thought, I put my own forward. When it falls back to my side, Doctor Webb stands aside. "I'm so very glad you could make it in. Follow me."

I keep close to Gerard, sometimes bumping into him where I kept  _too_  close. He glances down at me a few times, but I keep my eyes down, watching my feet shuffling against the hard tiled floor. We're led past the usual doors to a secluded office. No beds or scary equipment; Simply an office,  **Matthew Webb, MD** , is printed on the unclear glass. Inside, carpeted floor is covered with a large oak desk and a couple comfortable looking chairs. A few bookshelves line the far wall and a degree is framed behind the desk.

"Please have a seat." The doctor moves around the desk, seating himself while Gerard and I sit opposite. Doctor Webb smiles, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the surface of the desk. I can make out a manila folder, closed, in front of him, and wander if it's my name that's printed on the flap. "Your test came up clean, Mr. Iero," He informs me. "You do not have cancer."

I let out a breath that I didn't realize I had been holding. I can feel the grin spread across my face at his words and glance over at Gerard. The smile on his face verifies that I heard correctly. I don't have cancer.

"However," Doctor Webb says and my heart immediately stops. Hearing a doctor say  _however_  is never a good thing. So I wait. He seems to be confused, searching for words to explain to me why I'm here right now. If the test was negative, why couldn't he just tell me over the phone? Why did I have to drive two hours to hear this? "Your blood had an extremely high level of HCG. Usually, this is a sign of testicular cancer, but here that is not the case. Curious, I had a few other tests done as well. And--"

His words cut short and he just watches me. Panic swells in my stomach and it seems to churn. "And what?" Gerard prompts. "If he doesn't have cancer, then what did the tests say?"

Doctor Webb sighs and his facade falls away, showing the evident confusion and helplessness on his face. "It says you're pregnant."

A few moments pass in silence before I laugh. The sound is shrill and panicked because well, I'm a  _boy_. "I can't be pregnant," I argue, feeling angry and embarrassed than yet another person is even considering this as a possibility. "I have a dick!" I can't fight the animosity that swells up inside me. "I do not have a vagina or ovaries or whatever the hell else is required to have a  _baby inside me_."

"I know, Mr. Iero," Doctor Webb hols up both hands in a surrendering gesture and looking apologetic. "Trust me, I didn't believe the results at first either. But yet how else am I supposed to explain the fact that they came back positive?"

I glance over at Gerard. In all honesty, he looks confused and concerned as he glances back and forth between the doctor and myself. He seems to be the only one of us remaining collected as he says, "Well is there a way to check? Like, another test or something?"

Doctor Webb nods slightly, casting anxious glances my way. "I was thinking we could do an ultrasound. Even if there's no fetus, we can determine if there is something that would be giving off that much HCG."

Gerard looks over at me, silently asking for my input on the situation. I sigh, shrugging. "Fine."

Within minutes, Gerard and I are being led down the previous hallway. Doctor Webb lets us into a different kind of room. This one has a hospital bed-- Not a hard cot, but an actual bed. A monitor and equipment is set up to the right of the mattress. Doctor Webb flicks a switch on the monitor and it buzzes with life. He motions with one hand to the bed. "Lie down."

I abide and Gerard follows behind. He stands near my head, watching the doctor's swift movements with an unreadable expression on his face. "I'm gonna be okay," I ask him. "Right?"

Gerard looks down and smiles reassuringly. I feel his hand as it once again makes it's way into mine. The pressure of his fingers against mine emphasize his words when he nods. "You're gonna be fine, Frankie."

"Alright." My attention is dragged back to the doctor's. He holds a wide tube in his hand and he uses the other to roll up my shirt. I watch as he squeezes some thick, clear blue gel into a glob on my stomach. It's cold, chilling my skin and making me shiver. Grabbing a weird stick with a cord winding back to the machine. Pressing the probe to my stomach, he rolls it around, spreading the gelatinous substance across my skin, creating a sticky, uncomfortable layer. He mumbles a few things to himself and I watch straight ahead, not really wanting to see what he may or may not find. But I can't control myself when I hear his professional voice mutter a near silent, "Holy shit."

"What?" I crane my neck to see the monitor, filled with a black and white static image. "Holy shit, what?" I look to Gerard in a panic. "What is he holy shitting about?"

Gerard watches the monitor, ignoring me for the time being. His mouth falls open and his eyes widen slightly. "Is that--"

"Yeah," The doctor breathes out, not believing his eyes. If only I saw what he wasn't believing. After a long moment, he looks back to me. "This," He points to the screen with a shaking finger. I see a blinking white light, small and barely even noticeable. "That's a heartbeat."

"What?" My eyebrows crease and I look back to Gerard. He's already watching me, his hazel eyes mirroring my shock.

"Frank," He says, his voice cracking on the word. "That's a baby."


	28. Chapter 28 O_O

"Is this a fucking joke?" My breathing seems to come in uneven pants and I glare at Gerard. "You're joking right? It was your fucking idea in the first place, suggesting I was pregnant. Making me take the pregnancy test was one thing, but faking this entire thing--"

"Frank, this isn't..." Gerard watches me with wide eyes, shaking his head and letting his words trail off before he can collect himself. "I wouldn't do that to you."

"Then how the fuck do you explain  _that_!?" I point an accusing finger at the monitor, my eyes landing once again on the small blinking light. But the sincerity, the blatant shock in Gerard's gaze, makes me think that maybe he didn't plan this. But... "That's impossible." I let out a short laugh. " _Right_?" This time I look at the doctor, demanding that he tell me something is mixed up because there is no way in hell there is a baby in my stomach.

Doctor Webb glances between me and the screen, his mouth open and gaping as well. "It's impossible," He mumbles. "But..." He looks back to the image still flickering. "But it's right there. That's incredible."

I push his hand away, the screen going blank with the lack of contact. Nothing about this is incredible. This is fucked up and terrifying. I can't be--

"Hand me those," I demand, pointing to the box of tissues across the room. Gerard looks around, dazed, before realizing that I asked him for something. He reaches for the box, handing it out for me to take a handful of the Kleenex. Wiping the gel from my stomach, I stand up and pull my shirt back into place. As I throw the used tissues in the trash bin and turn to face the others, I realize both of them are watching me. Not just watching, but  _gawking_. "Stop looking at me like I'm a fucking science experiment!" I snap. I fold both of my arms across my chest, hiding myself as much as possible behind the limbs.

Gerard is the first to recover, stepping forward and, without words, wrapping his arms around me. I immediately relax into the embrace and twist my arms around his waist. "It's not real," I mumble into his chest. His shirt muffles my words and I'm not sure if he can hear, but they're more for my benefit anyway. "It can't be real. It's  _impossible_."

Gerard leans back and catches my gaze with his own. He brushes a few fingers through my hair, trying to soothe me, but I'm still in panic mode. "It's gonna be okay. Okay? We're gonna figure something out."

"It's remarkable," Doctor Webb mumbles and my attention is once again drawn to him. He seems shocked and mesmerized, watching me with a curious gaze. His smile widens and he chuckles. "I'd love to do more testing. To really figure out how this occurred. It truly is amazing--"

"No," Gerard shakes his head, watching the older man with a disappointed expression. "No testing. Not right now. Look, this might be some scientific feat for you or whatever, but Frank is freaking out. So your testing can wait. I'm taking him home." He looks down at me as if checking to make sure this is alright. I just swallow hard and nod.

Gerard thanks the doctor, but I'm too out of it to really focus on what's going on. With Gerard's help, I manage to reach the car. He helps me buckle the seatbelt, not saying a word, for which I'm thankful. I'm not sure what I would say right now. I hear my phone going off but I ignore it. I just curl up on the front seat and close my eyes, hoping that when I wake up, all of this will be a dream.

Unfortunately, when I open my eyes, I can tell immediately that everything that happened was real. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, but when they do, I can make out a few posters lining the walls. The lights are off and I feel smooth sheets brushing my skin. I'm in a bed, but I can tell instantly that it's not my own. It smells differently here. My face is buried in a pillow that smells heavily like cigarette smoke. But the more I inhale, the more I recognize the scent. The same scent  that filled me when I wore that pink turtleneck more than two months ago.

"Gerard?" I ask quietly.

A soft, tired grumble sounds in the silence and I look around the dark room. There's a strange formation of the floor, which moves with the noise. I slide closer to the edge of the bed and poke the lump. "Gerard?"

A more awake groan sounds this time and I see the whites of his eyes as they open. "Frankie?" He asks groggily. When he sees me peering over the edge of the bed at him, he clears his throat and sits up a little, glancing at the alarm clock on the nightstand. "It's three in the morning. What's up?"

"How did I get in here?" I wonder.

Gerard rubs a hand over his eyes in a sleepy manner. "When we got back, it was late. You were still asleep so I just brought you in here." A yawn breaks through his words and he sighs.

I hesitate, feeling bad for not only waking him up, but making him carry me here. Not to mention the fact that I stole his bed. "Why are you on the floor?"

"Because you were on the bed," He replies like it's the most obvious answer in the world.

I silently thank God that it's dark in here as I feel a blush light up my cheeks. "Oh. Well... You know, it's a big bed. You could have... Um.... Slept up here, too." Why am I acting so damn awkward all of a sudden? I've shared a bed with people before. With Zacky, with Mikey. But this time it seems different.

"Oh," is Gerard's only response. 

Oh great, now I've made him feel awkward, too. "You don't have to," I hurry on. "I mean, I just feel bad. I can take the floor if you want."

I think I see a grin spread across his face when Gerard stands up. "No," He says and I can hear the smile. "Like you said, the bed's big enough, right?"

I nod, and then realize he can't see the gesture, but scoot over anyway. Gerard climbs into the space next to me, his hand bumping mine when he pulls the covers up. "Sorry," He mumbles.

Silence falls over us for a long time before I speak again. "Gerard?" I ask quietly, wondering if he's fallen back to sleep already.

But when he responds, he sounds fully awake. "Yeah?"

"What am I going to do?" I keep my eyes turned straight up, watching the ceiling though I can't actually see it in the dark. "I have--" I take a deep breath, my voice dropping to a whisper, like if no one can hear it, it might not be real. "I have a baby. Growing inside my stomach." Nope, this is definitely real. I move a hand to rest on my abdomen, trying to feel the small life that lies below the skin. "I'm just a kid. I'm a  _boy_. What the hell am I supposed to do?"

Gerard sighs and I feel his hand deliberately on mine this time. "I don't know," He admits. "But I'll be right there to help you figure it out."

•••

"What the hell did I miss last night?" I can make out the words, but the voice sounds far away.

"Shhh, you'll wake him up!" A second voice whispers harshly. "Look, nothing happened, okay?"

A scoff sounds from the first person. "I came to wake you up for school and I see you and my best friend in a bed together."

"Sucks to be on this side of that equation, doesn't it?" The second voice shoots back. Silence for a long second before someone sighs. "Look, I'm sorry--"

"No, you're right," First voice says, though he sounds like he's far from agreeing. "You wanna fuck my friends, you have my permission. But that was one time, Gerard. One fucking time and you said you wouldn't bring it up again."

Gerard? He must be the second voice. "I know. I'm sorry. Look, Frank can explain everything to you when he wakes up, alright, Mikes?"

Oh. Voice number one is Mikey. "Fine," He grumbles. "But wake his ass up. We can't be late for school."

The sound of a door shutting makes me groan, rolling over to bury my face in the pillow. I breathe in that scent again, the one that's just Gerard, and sigh. I don't want to move from this spot, but when I feel a hand shaking my shoulder, I know I must. Mikey's words resonate in my mind and I remember; I can't be late for school. How did this happen? Two days ago, that was my main concern. I'm sixteen years old. My focus should be on school, on studying for my exams next week and planning what I'm doing for Summer vacation. Instead, I'm contemplating the tiny person that's apparently growing in my stomach.

When I'm out of bed, Gerard tells me I can borrow a clean shirt before leaving the room to let me change alone. Mikey is already in the kitchen eating a bowl of cereal when I make my way down the stairs. I can still hear the shower running, signaling where Gerard is. "Hey," I sit down on the barstool next to Mikey.

"Hi." He says around a bite of Lucky Charms.

"I'm pregnant," I blurt out. Oh nice going, Frank. Way to be subtle. 

Mikey raises an eyebrow before snorting and turning back to his food. "I'm sorry we made you take those tests," He says. "So I guess this is your way of turning the joke around?"

I shake my head once, staring him down to make him realize just how serious my words are. "I'm not joking, Mikey."

The smile on his lips slowly fades and he watches me closely. "Oh my fuck, you're not joking."

That's what I just said. But I don't point that out. I focus on the boy before me, shaking my head. "Gerard took me to a medical clinic in Atlantic City. I had the ultrasound last night. There was a little light that the doctor said was a heartbeat."

Mikey's the one shaking his head now, watching me like I'm crazy. "Frank, that's impossible. You don't have the bits and pieces to be pregnant."

I shrug limply. "And yet I am."

"Are you sure?" He asks. "Like this doctor wasn't some wackjob, right? The test was legit?"

I nod, though I can't vouch for him completely.

"Whoa." Mikey has completely forgotten his food by this point, turning in his seat to face me. "Okay," He lets out a breath. "Let's think rationally--"

I snort. "I'm a pregnant sixteen year old boy," I state. "Rationality flew out the window a long time ago."

But Mikey ignores me. "I think you should get another test done," He advises me. "I mean, what if it was just some misreading? I think you should get another one."

"I agree with Mikey," Comes Gerard's voice from behind me. When I turn around to face him, he's standing in the doorway pulling a shirt on over his head. I avert my gaze back to the younger Way.

"Okay," I reply. "Where? When?"

"There's a free clinic downtown," Mikey says. "They do free pregnancy testing and ultrasounds, all that shit."

I glance at Gerard who is nodding. "I could take you after school."

I'm about to respond when Mikey speaks up. "I'm going, too. If my best friend is really pregnant, I'm not missing this."

I roll my eyes, looking back to Gerard and nodding in agreement. "Okay. After school."


	29. TwEnTy...NiNe (っ◔◡◔)っ ♥

"I'm going to castrate you." I glare at the older boy from my perch on the uncomfortable cot.

"Frank, it's not that big of a deal." Mikey rolls his eyes, folding his arms across his chest.

"Okay, smile Mommy Frank! Now move your arms." Josh nudges my arms, which are still clasped tightly around my stomach, protecting it from the camera that Josh shoves into my face. "I said move your damn arms before I rip them off and beat you with them." Somehow, Josh manages to peel the limbs away from me, lifting my shirt with one hand and balancing the camera at just the right angle with the other. He grins. "Aww, look! That's my little niece or nephew in there!" He turns the recorder on himself. "Hi, Baby Baker! I'm your Uncle Josh!"

"You're not even my brother," I argue. 

Josh flashes me a glare. "Fuck off, twat. I'm still an uncle."

I sigh, looking back to Mikey. "Why the hell did you tell Josh we were coming to the clinic?" I ask. It was bad enough that Gerard, Mikey, and I were crammed into the small room awaiting the ultrasound, but since Mikey had opened his big mouth, Josh was now tagging along as well. Even worse, he claimed he needed to document the entire experience, hence the camera he was swinging around.

"Alright, excuse me." The quiet voice comes from a petite woman who steps around my friends. She stops dead in her tracks when she sees me sitting on the cot. The smile on her dark lips falters and she looks around the room. "Umm, I'm sorry," She mumbles. "I think you boys have the wrong room. This is the ultrasound room."

"Nope," Josh says, fiddling with the buttons on his camera. "We're in the right place."

The woman nods slightly, still looking confused. "Then where is my Ms. Iero?"

"It's Mister," I speak up, blushing and raising my hand. "Frank Iero."

The woman sighs, putting a hand on her hip and watching me without humor. "Young man, I do not take well to pranks. This is a very serious clinic and--"

"With all due respect, Miss," Gerard interjects. "This isn't a prank. Frank here had an ultrasound yesterday that showed he was pregnant. We just want a second opinion."

The woman sighs again and looks at the clock on the wall. "Alright. But let's hurry this up. I have serious patients to tend to."

I fight the urge to roll my eyes-- She doesn't understand just how serious I am. But I remain silent and scoot back on the uncomfortable table. I lift my shirt and lay back, feeling Mikey's presence next to me, Gerard standing next to him. "Michael, move your ass. It's in the way." Josh nudges Mikey with his shoulder, knocking the scrawny boy over and squeezing between the brothers to get a better view. The little red light is still on and I turn my head away from him, not wanting to be filming this at the moment. I just want to get this over with.

I watch as the woman produces a tube, similar to the one Doctor Webb used yesterday. She mimics the motions silently, squeezing the gel onto my stomach and immediately pressing the probe against it. Smearing it around, she presses down. I have to pee, feeling her push down on my bladder, but don't move.

"Oh my..." The woman mumbles and I look back.

I shift, trying to get a glimpse of the screen, but only just failing. "What?" I ask impatiently. "Do you see anything?"

"Is that a baby?" Josh speaks up. He leans closer to the screen, his eyes widening. Mikey's face mirrors the surprise and he looks down at me.

"Is it there again?" I demand. "The heartbeat. Is it still there?"

I feel a hand on mine and look down to see Gerard's placed on top of it. "Yeah, it's still there."

I sigh, letting my fall back onto the mattress. "But how--" The woman looks down at me, shock playing across her features. "That's impossible."

"Yeah, tell me about it." I swallow hard, trying to get this through my head. The heartbeat is still there, the  _baby_  is still there.

And the reality seems to hit me like a brick; I'm pregnant.

Really, truly, magically pregnant.

"Can you tell how far he is?" Gerard wonders. Part of me doesn't want to know the answer, and yet a small part of me is anxious to find out. So I glance at the woman quietly, waiting for a response.

She seems to hesitate at first, still shocked by all of it. "Umm... Hold on." She clicks a few keys on the machine and everyone's gaze is on the screen but mine. I can't see it, though I'm kind of relieved about that. "The baby is about one and a half inches long, by my measurements. So, best guess would be around eleven weeks."

I think I choke on my own tongue. Coughing erupts from my chest and the probe is jerked away from my skin. I sit up, breathing hard. "Eleven weeks? That's--" I quickly do the math in my head, counting a few times just to be sure. "That's practically the whole time. When Zacky and I first--" And then something else occurs to me and time is the last thing on my mind. "I have to tell Zacky."

I feel Mikey's hand on my shoulder and he smiles sadly down at me. "We can go with you, if you want," He offers, but I shake my head.

"No," I say. "I think I have to do this alone. But... I might want you there when I tell my parents. They won't kill me right away if you're there."

•••

"I'm pregnant. I've got a Baby Baker in my belly! Congrats, Daddy Zacky!" I want to punch myself in the face. This is by far the hardest thing I've ever had to do; How do I tell Zacky that I'm pregnant with his kid? Holy hell... I don't think I'll ever get used to that.

_I am pregnant._

Nope, never getting used to that.

I stand up from the swing and move away from the park. The sun is starting to set and I know I have to tell Zacky today. He'll understand, right? He will be there for me. For  _us_. 

I reach his house too soon, but I can't turn back now. I have to do this. As I approach the front door, I ball my hand into a fist and knock loudly. I have to wait a few seconds, but eventually the door swings open and I'm faced with my boyfriend.

"Hey," I say, forcing a smile.

Zacky nods in response.

I swallow down a breath and bite down on my lip. "I think we should talk."

He hesitates, but holds the door open and lets me in. I follow him upstairs to his bedroom. Closing the door behind him, he takes a seat on the bed and waits. "I'm sorry for lying about a lot of things," I start. "When I found out that I might have cancer, for having Gerard take me to get the test. I should have told you right away. But that's why I'm here. I have something else I need to tell you and you're probably not going to believe me."

Zacky cocks an eyebrow at me and I reach into the pocket of my jeans, pulling out the small picture. I hand it over to him and his forehead creases in confusion as he studies it. "That's a sonogram," I explain. I point to a blurry section of the image. "You see that little smudge right there?" I wait for him to nod before taking a deep breath. "Zacky, that's a baby."

Slowly, Zacky nods again. He holds the picture out for me to take, but I don't. I want him to see it. To really grasp what I'm telling him. "What does this have to do with me?" He wonders.

"Because that's my sonogram," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "Zacky, I got that done earlier today. That little smudge is in my stomach right now."

Zacky doesn't say anything. He simply watches me with an unreadable expression. The silence pushes me to continue speaking. "That little smudge is  _ours_ , babe." I can't help the grin that stretches across my face. Maybe it is possible that I sprouted ovaries because the proud-mommy instincts seem to fill me. "I'm pregnant."

Zacky snorts, rolling his eyes and shoving the sonogram into my hands. He stands up and folds his arms across his chest. "You seriously expect me to believe that?"

"No," I admit. "I mean, I didn't believe it at first, which is why I got the second ultrasound done. That's why I brought the picture. I thought you might believe me if you saw--"

"Saw what?" He laughs. "A little smudge on a piece of paper? You're being ridiculous, Frank. You are not pregnant."

I shake my head sadly. "No, Zacky. Why would I joke about this?" I take a step closer to him, begging him to believe me. "Please, you have to trust me on this. Zacky, I can't do this without you." I grab his hand and frocefully place it on my stomach. He can't feel anything yet, the baby is still too small, but his expression changes slightly when he realizes that I'm being serious. "It's  _ours_."

Zacky blinks a few times before pulling away from my touch and running a hand through his black hair. "Okay," He sighs, his breathing uneven. I can see the thoughts racing through his head as he begins pacing. But a few steps in, he stops, turning to face me. "Why did you come here?" He asks. "Do you need the money?"

I shake my head, not understanding. "What money?"

"You know," He motions toward my stomach. "It's not too late for an abortion, right?"

My mouth falls open and my heart nearly stops. The thought had honestly never occured to me. Sure, panic and terror filled me when I found out, but not once did I actually think about aborting. That's sick. That's wrong. And the fact that Zacky just suggested aborting his own kid makes my stomach churn. "What?"

"That's why you came here, right?" He asks. "I can help you pay for an abortion."

"No!" I exclaim. I can feel the disgust warping my features as I stare at him incredulously. "What the hell is your problem, Zacky!? You can't be serious!"

"Well then why did you come here?" He demands, looking defensive. 

I laugh humorlessly, feeling regretful. He's right; It was a mistake coming here. "Because I thought you would understand."

"I understand that I'm seventeen, Frank," He argues. "I'm not ready for a fucking kid. And neither are you. Look," He steps closer to me, smiling and wrapping his arms around me. "We can go to the clinic tomorrow. Pretend like this never happened." He leans down to kiss me, but I shove away. I feel dirty just being near him.

"Fuck you, Zacky," I spit and, ignoring the tears that are stinging my eyes, storm from the room. I don't go home. I press my feet forward, but I can't face my parents yet. Instead, I find myself in front of the Way house. But when I knock on the door and Donna answers, I don't ask for Mikey. "Is Gerard here?"

The older woman nods, concerned, but says nothing of my crying and points me in the direction of Gerard's bedroom. I knock on the closed bedroom door until it's pulled open and I come face to face with the taller, older boy. I push past him into the room without a word, turning to face him when the door is closed. "Tell me what happened in the bathroom between you two," I demand. "I want to know."

**_(A/N: Okay, so does anybody else totally love Josh's character? He makes me smile xD And anybody else hate Zacky!? *Raises hand* Anywhore! ARE YOU GUYS LIKING THE DRAMA SO FAR!?! It's finally getting into the mpreg part of the story (it's about damn time, Rachel...) and I don't know if you guys like reading it, but it's really fun to write._ **   
**_-MyChemicalRachel)_ **


	30. xxx

"I can't pretend like this never happened," I bury my face in my hands. Tears are drying on my skin, but fresh ones are quickly replacing them. I sniffle and wipe the back of my hand across my eyes before returning to hiding my face, mumbling the words. Gerard leans in, trying to catch everything I'm saying, letting his hand rest on my lower back. "I can't believe he wants me to just abort. How can he even think like that? I mean, I didn't exactly expect him to be excited, but an  _abortion_?" I look up at Gerard, feeling helpless. I need him to tell me what to do because my own thoughts are a mess of emotion. "What if he's right, Gerard?" I ask. "I'm sixteen. I can't be a dad. I don't even have a job. I'm not ready for this. What if  Zacky's right?"

Gerard shakes his head sadly, watching me closely. "Frank, you're scared right now. I know that. But you have to try to think rationally."

"Rationally, I am a boy," I interrupt. "It's not supposed to be possible to be pregnant right now." I sigh, trying to calm the crying and think logically. "And rationally, I'm not ready for this. Rationally, I think Zacky is right."

Gerard shakes his head again, a more stiff gesture this time. He bites down on his lip and narrows his eyes. "If that's what you really want; Okay. I will take you to the clinic to get the abortion. But right now, I think you're an emotional train wreck. And  _that's_  rational. Anybody would be freaking out in your position." He tilts his head to one side. "So what do  _you_  want to do? It doesn't matter what Zacky is telling you or what you think rationality is telling you. What do you  _want_?"

I don't say anything for a long time. What do I want? I  _want_  to go to before this entire thing started. I want to be in a normal relationship, before the testing and the potential cancer and the pregnancy. I want to be a normal freaking teenage boy who's biggest concern is passing Sophomore year and getting a car. But I know that I can't go back. I can't pretend that this never happened because it did.

Eventually, I look up at Gerard. The tears have stopped coming, a little bit of light coming through as the realization really occurs to me. My voice is thick when I sniffle one last time and say, "I want to keep it."

Gerard smiles down at me and nods once. "Okay."

"But how?" I demand. I stand up from my seat on the bed, pacing the room. This newfound knowledge weighs heavy on my mind; I want to keep the baby, but  _how_? "I'm a kid, Gerard. How the hell am I supposed to raise a baby? And I doubt  Zacky is going to be very helpful with that--"

My words cut off when Gerard stands as well. Both of his hands attach to my shoulders and my pacing is halted, staring deep into Gerard's eyes. "Because we'll help you," He says simply. "Mikey and Josh and me. We're here for you, Frankie. For anything that you need." But there's something deeper than the words. He's not making promises for Mikey or Josh, he's guaranteeing that  _he_  will be here. I nod silently and feel the serenity creeping up on me. His presence is calming to me and I'm reminded of the same peacefulness that I felt when he took me to the Medical Clinic the first time.

I inhale slowly, not taking my eyes from Gerard's. "I want you to tell me what happened in the bathroom," I say.

Gerard contemplates my request for a few seconds before turning around and moving back to the bed. He sits down quietly, scooting back and leaning against the wall. He keeps his eyes cast down, fingers picking absently at the fuzzies on the blanket. Cautiously, I join him, sliding onto the bed next to him and leaning against the wall as well. And then I wait.

After a long silence, Gerard speaks. "It was a few weeks after you started dating Zacky. I was running some errand for the teacher and I passed by the storage closet. There was this weird noise and the door was open a little, so I looked in." He pauses and my stomach drops. I know what he's going to say even before the low words leave his mouth. "Zacky had Syn pushed up against the shelf, tongue down his throat and hands down his pants." I close my eyes, trying to get the image out of my head, but it was too late. I could imagine it perfectly, those familiar lips on someone else, those hands tugging on someone else's clothes. The thought makes me feel sick and thankfully Gerard spares me the rest of the crude details, sighing. "When they looked up and saw me, I panicked. I was about to bolt back to class, but Zacky grabbed me and shoved me into the bathroom." His voice drops even lower, shame creeping into his soft words. "And then he came onto me. He pinned me against the wall and tried to kiss me. Told me that if I kept what I had seen to myself, he would  _'make it worth my while.'_  I wanted to tell you, but Zacky said that it would just hurt you even more to know." He shrugs helplessly, looking dejected. "I should have told you anyway, but I thought maybe he was right. I didn't want to be the one to ruin your relationship-- You were happy. So I just stayed away from you like he said."

I stay quiet when he's finished, not really sure what to say. I didn't doubt Gerard's story, I believed him whole heartedly, and that hurt. How could Zacky do that to me? He told me he loved me. But through the pain I feel eating at me, I realize that Gerard never told me the truth because he didn't want me to get hurt. He was trying to protect me.

"I get it if you're pissed," He mumbles softly. I can see the red around his eyes and he wipes at the building tears furiously. "I was stupid. I should have just told you right then."

"I wouldn't have believed you then," I say.

"And now?" Gerard wonders. He still won't look at me, but when I shift my position on the bed, placing my hand over his, he glances up. 

"Now, I believe you." Gerard turns his hand over so my palm is lying flat against his. Our fingers rest together, his longer and thinner than my own, and I turn my focus on that. I let the silence settle over us in a heavy layer, just watching my hand against his, my thoughts spinning in pounding circles. "You know what hurts the most?" I ask eventually. "That I don't think he ever cared. He made me think that he loved me just as much as I love him, but he doesn't. He never did. And the worst part is that, I think I knew that. Even in the beginning, I knew that it wasn't going anywhere." I shrug, hating the tears I feel stinging once again. Is this a hormonal thing? Because I hate all of this damn crying. "I mean, what kind of lasting relationship starts with sex? I guess I was absorbed in wanting somebody who would be there, who would care about me. And he acted like he cared. That was enough for me." I shrug again. I'm ranting, I know that, but it feels good to get it all out. Even if Gerard isn't listening or doesn't care. But when he nudges my shoulder with his, I look up and find him watching me intently.

"You don't have to settle for that, Frank," He says. "You deserve so much more. You have people that  _actually_  care. For you," He takes the hand not under mine and moves it to rest on my stomach, smiling softly. "And for Baby Iero."

I feel a smile spreading across my lips and allow my hand to relax on Gerard's, wrapping my fingers around his. "Thank you, Gerard." I mumble. I shift down lower on the bed, resting my head on his shoulder and closing my eyes.

•••

"I forgot, I have a dentist appointment."

Mikey rolls his eyes, his arms folded tightly across his chest. "No, you don't."

"Fine then," I grunt stubbornly. "I have another ultrasound. I have to go." I move to step around Mikey, but his hands catch me and I'm spun around to face the house. My house. With my parents inside. "I can't do this," I say. Panic is surging up again and I plant my feet stiffly on the pavement.

"Yes, you can," Mikey argues, pushing me forward. "I'm right here with you. You need to tell them, Frank."

I sigh, hating the fact that he's right. My teeth grind together and I inhale sharply. "Alright." I say. "I can do this." But as soon as the front door is closed behind us, my confidence disappears and I'm reminded of what I'm about to confess to my parents.

"Hey, Linda," Mikey smiles, waving at my mother who appears in the doorway. She returns the gesture, wiping her hands on the dish towel and leaning against the door frame.

"Frank, I feel like I haven't seen you in days," She comments. "Where have you been?"

"Mikey's house." I'm surprised I can manage the response without freaking out and throwing up on her feet, so I mentally pat myself on the back. Now if only the rest could come out so easily.

She nods, smiling. "Oh, alright." Her face falls the longer she watches me and she takes a step forward. "Sweetie, you don't look so well. Are you sick?"

I can't respond, the words not coming, but Mikey jumps in. "Where is Mr. Iero?" He wonders. "We were actually wanting to talk to you. Both of you."

My mother's concerned expression doesn't relax any and she glances between the two of us. Oh god, I'm gonna throw up. "He's upstairs," She says warily. "Why? What's wrong?"

Mikey just offers another fake smile. "Would you mind getting him, so we can all talk?"

Mom turns to the stairs, not taking a single step as she calls my father's name. Only a moment later, he appears at the top of the stairs. Oh shit. Yes, definitely going to be sick. I barrel past my mom into the kitchen, knowing I won't make it to the bathroom fast enough. Instead, I lean over the trash bin, my fingers grasping the white frame as my insides are hurled out. I can feel hands holding my hair back. "Frank, what in the world is wrong?" My mom asks frantically from my side. I glance up, silently thanking Mikey for saving my precious black locks of unwashed hair from the vomit. I wipe a sleeve across my mouth, looking back to my mom. She doesn't speak, moving swiftly across the kitchen to get me a glass of tap water. Handing it to me, she waits. When the glass is down and the bile is no longer evident on my taste buds, my mom crosses her arms. "You're sick," She accuses.

I look back to Mikey for help, my eyes landing instead on the much larger figure waiting near the kitchen door. "What's going on?" Dad demands.

I swallow hard. "Can we talk?"

Leading my parents into the living room, I sit down on the love-seat and motion for them to take the sofa across from me. Mikey claims the cushion to my left and I sigh quietly, thankful once again that he's here to do this with me.

"I've been lying to you," I blurt out. Well, that's as good of way as any to start this conversation.

Mom's eyebrows shoot up, worry knitting in her forehead. My dad just clenches his jaw silently.

I take a deep breath, clasping my hands in my lap. "I don't want you to be mad at me," I whisper. "I really need your help."

"What have you been lying about?" My mother demands.

I chew on my lip ring quietly before looking up at them. I know they deserve to know the truth and I might as well face them head on. "I've been seeing someone," I admit. "A boy. His name is Zacky and I've been dating him for about two and a half months."

My parents continue to watch me silently, each of them knowing that there's more to this story.

"And we've had sex."

"Frank Anthony!" Dad jumps up, his face flaming a bright red color. My mom just inhales quickly and looks down. I can practically feel the shame and tension spreading throughout the room, rubbing against my skin and making me uncomfortable. "How could you do something so stupid?" Dad continues. "I thought--" His voice breaks off and he clenches his jaw again. "I thought this gay thing was just a phase you were going through." He sputters out a few more random statements before my mother looks at me. I can feel her eyes on me, but I keep my gaze down.

"Franklin," She says, grabbing my father's arm. "Franklin, listen to your son. I don't think he's finished."

I bite down hard on my lip again, not really wanting to continue. But when Dad stops, looking down at me, I know I have to. "You're not going to believe me," I state sadly. "That's why I brought Mikey with me. We can show you the proof."

"What proof?" Mom asks, worry lacing through her words. "What's wrong?"

I look back at Mikey, who immediately scoots toward my parents. He pulls the small video recorder from his pocket and opens it up. I can hear the voices already playing as he shifts the screen so my parents can both see. " _Michael, move your ass. It's in the way._ "

I close my eyes, already knowing what they see; Their son lying on a medical cot getting an ultrasound. Within a few moments, the screen zooms in on the monitor and the small blinking light. My own voice. " _What? Do you see anything?_ "

Silence again before Josh speaks. " _Is that a baby?_ "

"Alright, that's enough," My father snaps and leans back in his seat. Mikey moves the video camera away and looks over at me. Cautiously, my gaze shifts back to my mom and dad. Watching them, I feel around in my pocket for the image I knows is there. Tugging the sonogram free with a shaking hand, I hold it forward.

My mothers fingers grasp the picture first. Her lips are parted in silent shock, glancing between me and the photo. "That's impossible," She says, the words nothing more than a heavy exhale.

"I know it should be," I admit. "But you saw the video. Mom, I'm  _pregnant_."

Silence fills the room for a long time, everyone letting this fact sink in. My mother keeps her eyes focused on the picture and I watch her. Dad looks down, his face still red and a hand pressed over his mouth. I glance over at Mikey every now and then to see him watching the three of us quietly.

Eventually, Mom moves. She sets the photo down on the sofa and stands up. For a second, I think she's going to leave. I wouldn't really blame her if she did. But instead, she pulls me up and wraps her arms around me. I can hear her crying when I lean into the embrace and sigh softly. "I'm so sorry, Mom," I mumble.

She shakes her head, leaning back to look at me. "We're not focusing on that right now," She says. "You lied to us, but that's not what's important right now. What's important is that you've got my grandbaby in that tummy of yours," She looks down at my stomach, placing a hand gently over the shirt and laughing. "You came to us for help and we're going to help you."

I grin and pull her back in for another hug. I try to keep the smile painted onto my face, but I can't help the sadness that overwhelms me when my Dad stands from the couch and leaves the room without a word. 


	31. 13 retpahC

"Eat it," Mikey commands, shoving the tray onto the table in front of me. My stomach has been upset all day and the sudden smell of Ranch that hits me causes my nose to crinkle up. I push the Styrofoam tray away, shaking my head.

"I'm not really hungry," I admit.

Josh appears to my right, sliding his own lunch tray into place before sitting down. "I don't care if you're hungry or not, pumpkin," He says sweetly, offering me a charming smile. "I will force feed you if I have to. Eat the damn salad."

I groan, crossing my arms on the table and letting my head fall into them. I hear noise as more people sit down but refuse to come up from my newfound hiding place until a hand taps on my shoulder. I narrow my eyes and peek up to meet Gerard's hazel eyes gazing back. "Morning sickness?" He guesses.

I groan again. "It's not just morning. I've been nauseous all fucking day."

He smiles half-heartedly. "You've still gotta eat, Frank. Baby Iero needs it's nutrients." My mouth twists up in disgust at just the thought of eating, but I know he's right. "Here," Gerard pulls out a Butterfinger and holds it out to me. My eyes light up and I reach for the candy, but he pulls it away. "Eat your salad first. Then you can have candy."

I roll my eyes-- he's acting like I'm a kid-- but pull the salad closer and grab the fork. I can feel all of their eyes on me as I eat, but ignore the looks and keep my gaze focused on the food in front of me. I'm pleasing them by feeding Baby Iero; That's all that matters.

A few bites in, I glance up. I don't know why really, it feels kind of involuntary. My eyes land on Zacky from across the cafeteria. He's sitting at another table, Synyster on one side, other various friends surrounding him on the other. But he's watching me already. At first, I almost smile; Three months ago, I would have fangirled if I saw Zacky Baker even looking in my direction. But then I remember everything; How he suggested I abort our child. That he was cheating on me. That he tried to kiss Gerard to keep it a secret. So I just drop the gaze and push the tray away. "I lost my appetite."

Josh looks up, turning around and craning his neck to see what I saw that made my sickness even worse. When he finds Zacky, he rolls his eyes and flips hair away from his face. "He's a cunt," He states. "Forget about him, Poptart. You don't need no man to make you happy."

I raise a questioning eyebrow. "Did you just call me Poptart?"

Josh nods easily before looking up and changing the topic. "I think I'm gonna get my nose pierced." Ignoring the fact that he's said something along these lines before, my mind fills with the image of a needle actually going through his face. It shouldn't gross me out-- I got my lip done a few months ago. I've never been the squeamish type. But the sudden thought of cartilage, metal, and blood hits me like a wave and I feel the nausea spring forward again. I jump up from the table in an instant, racing through the room to the boys bathroom.

I drop to my knees in front of the toilet just as the meager amount of lunch I'd eaten comes surging up and into the bowl. A second later, I feel hands on me, pulling my hair back and away from the excretion. I groan, managing to shake my head. "I'm fine, Mikey," I say, though my voice sounds far from it.

"Wrong brother." I look up over my shoulder to see Gerard is the one behind me. One hand pulls back on my hair while the other rests on my back. He grimaces. "And you don't look fine."

I spit into the toilet and let out another moan. It's kind of embarrassing to be seen like this, but I don't tell him to leave. It feels nice to have him here. "This morning sickness sucks," I say simply. "I feel like shit." I look down at my knees, picking absently at a loose string that hangs from the denim. Lowering my voice, I sigh. "And seeing Zacky isn't really helping my cause."

Gerard is silent for a long moment before I push myself to a standing position and flush the toilet. I move past him to the sinks, turning on the cold water. "I think you should talk to him." The words catch me offguard and I look up, catching Gerard's eye in the mirror. I look at him, incredulous. He, of all people, should want me far away from Zacky. Not calling him up to chat.

"Why the hell should I talk to him?" I ask.

Gerard purses his lips and shrugs. He crosses his arms and leans against the stall door. "Because technically he's still your boyfriend," He says. "Because, as much as you hate to admit it, that's his baby, too. And because it's going to tear you apart unless you do."

I sigh and turn my attention back to washing my hands. When I've finished, I dry them angrily and face Gerard again. "I hate it when you're right," I state and storm out of the bathroom. I can see the smile on his lips when he follows me back to the lunch table.

Of course, talking to Zacky was still the last thing I wanted to do. I wanted to focus on not throwing up in the middle of class. I wanted to study for the exams I knew I had next week. I wanted to shove him into a well and kick dirt on him. Gerard was right-- I needed to talk to Zacky\-- but he never said  _when_. So I was putting it off for as long as possible.

But when Zacky approached my locker right before last period, my evasive maneuvers were proven to be useless.

He leans against the locker next to mine and I'm reminded sickly of the times he used to do that when he would walk me to class. I don't even look up, switching out my textbooks and searching through the various notebooks for the one I would need for History. "What?"

Zacky hesitates, looking nervous. I've never seen him look nervous before. Arrogant asshole is usually the persona he sticks with. "I want to talk to you," He says, sounding unsure.

"You're talking now," I point out.

He sighs heavily, shifting, and standing up straighter. "Frank, we need to talk."

I turn to glare at him, trying my best to be intimidating. "I don't want to talk to you," I admit. "The thought of talking to you makes me sick. You are a bastard, Zacky, and I have nothing more to say to you." Turning on my heels, I only make it a few steps before his voice stops me dead in my tracks.

"We need to talk about the baby." His voice cracks on the word baby, almost like he's choking on the syllables. Oh yes, Zacky. Choke on them words. Maybe I'll get lucky enough that they'll get lodged in your throat and you'll stop breathing.

But I don't say any of that out loud. I simply face him again and bite my lip, contemplating. Eventually I sigh. "I have to get to class."

"Can I come by your place later?" He wonders.

"My mom is taking me to get another ultrasound after school," I tell him. I want to rub it in that it's because she actually cares that I have a growing life in my stomach, but swallow the words and force out new ones. "Tonight, though. Around seven."

Zacky nods and I turn away once again. I almost make it to class without tears streaking my face, pain aching in my chest because I can't deny the fact that I wanted to hug him. I wanted to kiss him and tell him I still love him. But I stopped the words from coming and let the tears flow instead.

•••

"No way am I missing this." Josh swings the camera around to face me. The little red light that glows near the lens makes it evident that he's filming once again. I roll my eyes, sighing. "I mean, if this the real thing, Frank, and your stomach isn't just pulsating with a weird light, then this is the first ever case of a pregnant man. Somebody has to document it."

"And that somebody has to be you?" I ask.

Josh nods fervently, grinning. "You bet your sweet ass it has to be me."

I shake my head, looking around the parking lot as Mikey appears at my side. "Let me guess," I say dryly. "You want to come, too."

Mikey just shrugs, not looking nearly as enthusiastic as Josh. "Figured you would need moral support." I smile. Even though they can be overbearing at times, I'm glad my friends are okay with this entire situation. They actually want to help and be there for me.

I glance around again. "What about Gerard?"

Mikey cocks an eyebrow at me. "You want Gerard to come?"

My first reaction is to shake my head. "No, of course not." But Mikey just continues to watch me, a knowing look on his face. I sigh and shift the backpack on my shoulder. "I don't know," I admit. In all honesty, it feels weird to not have him here. He's been the one to take me to every ultrasound so far and to the cancer testing before that. Without him here, it feels different.

I push the thoughts out of my head when my eyes land on my mom's Ford Escort parked near the edge of the lot. I lead my friends across the pavement, climbing into the car without a word while they scramble into the back. Mom's eyebrows crease and she looks in the rearview mirror before turning her confused gaze on me. Jerking a thumb in their direction, she conveys her unspoken question. I just shrug. "They wanted to come."

"Hi, Linda," Mikey speaks up, waving a little.

My mom returns the small gesture, smiling softly, until Josh decides to open his mouth. "This is your Grandma!" He says cheerfully, focusing the camera in on my mom. "Say hi, Granny Iero!"

The smile stays in place on her lips but my mother's hazel eyes darken when she catches his gaze in the rearview. "Call me Granny one more time, Joshua, and your ass will be getting hit with the car instead of riding in it."

Josh's eyes widen because he knows she isn't joking. "Yes, Ma'am." I laugh and lean back in the seat as the car starts and we pull away from the school. I try to keep my eyes focused on the dashboard, but I can't help the way my gaze automatically shifts to Zacky's usual parking space. The motorcycle is gone, which should make me feel better-- I don't have to see him and deal with the feelings that come with that. But not seeing him there is just as bad because it leaves me wondering not only where he is, but who he's with. Although I can guess, as Synyster seems to have disappeared as well, and I have a pretty good idea of what they could be doing.

•••

Doctor Webb is just how I remember him. Tousled brown hair, his eyes a darker shade of the color but lively with excitement as soon as they find me. He extends an arm to me and nods. "Frank, it's good to see you again."

_Really? Because I'd be perfectly content if I never had to see you again. You're here to poke my stomach and verify, for the third fucking time, that there's a baby in there_. Of course, I keep the thoughts to myself and fake a smile in return. "I assume you're Ms.  Iero?" He turns his attention to my mother, shaking her hand as well.

"Thank you so much for meeting us here on such short notice," Mom says gratefully. I take the chance to look around, silently thankful once again that Josh and Mikey are here with me. The parking lot we've stopped in is relatively small compared to the building at the head of it. The old brick looks worn close up, but from back far, it still looks brand new. The sign on the front reads "Newark Woman's Healthcare Facility. Established in 1982."

"So you're the first one to see Baby Baker, right?" Josh steps forward with the camera, zooming in on Webb's face to catch every ounce of excitement he's putting off.

Doctor Webb smiles, nodding. "I am. And I'm honored you called me to help with the rest of the pregnancy." He motions toward the building and I take this as our cue to actually go inside. "Shall we?"

Inside, it's like Mother Goose threw up on the room. The main lobby's floor is covered in a white carpet dawning pastel colored rocking horses. The walls are a swirl of more pastels in blue and pink and green. It's dizzying and I grab onto Mikey's arm to keep myself steady. We're led to the front desk where a smiling woman with silver hair waits. "Doctor Webb," She greets him. "Welcome! It's so nice to see you again."

The doctor returns the warming gesture and says, "Margot. Is my room ready?"

The receptionist-- Margot, I'm assuming-- nods, pointing down the connecting hall. "Room 103. The equipment should all be there."

"Great." Doctor Webb motions to the hallway for us to go first and I follow Mikey to the correct room, labeled with a gold and black plaque. The inside of the room is dimly lit and decorated in more gender neutral  pastels. Pale yellow sheets adorn the single bed placed in the center of the room. On the left side of the mattress, a few chairs are set up. On the other side, the familiar ultrasound machine waits.

"Frank," Webb says, waving to the bed with one arm as he moves around to the machine. Reluctantly, I let go of Mikey's arm and lie down on the bed. Mikey and Mom both take seats, but Josh stands near the end of the mattress, camera still in hand.

"Ultrasound number three," He states, the red light flicking on.

I avert my gaze, focusing on the doctor's movements instead. He flips on a few switches and the machine buzzes to life. Black comes across the screen as he produces a thick tube from it's position behind the machine. I roll my shirt up and let out a nervous breath. When the gelatinous substance hits my stomach, I jerk away though it's not from the temperature. Fear is swelling up again and I close my eyes. I can feel the probe on my abdomen, pressing down and moving around to try to catch sight of anything. When it stops moving, I hear Doctor Webb's soft voice. "Incredible," He mumbles and I know they see it. The flickering light. The heartbeat. The  _baby_.

"Oh my goodness." I open my eyes, ignoring the screen to look at my mom. Tears glimmer in her eyes as she watches the screen in awe.

"And there is Baby Baker!" Josh moves the camera closer to the screen and I look up to see what they do. "Wait," Josh leans closer, looking concerned. "Is the heartbeat stuttering? Does Baby Baker have a stutter? The kid can't even talk and it's fucking stuttering!" As soon as he points it out, I see what he means. It's like the heartbeat is flashing faster than it was before. Before, it was calm.  _Beep. Beep. Beep_. But now, it's like it's become twitchy somehow.  _Be-Beep. Be-Beep. Be-Beep_.

Doctor Webb creases his eyebrows and leans closer as well. He clicks a few buttons and the image on the screen zooms in. "Is something wrong?" I ask. I can hear the worry in my voice and curse myself. I sound, dare I say it, attached. But at this point, I don't care. This is my baby... I've kind of gotten to except that, especially after deciding I would keep it. "Why is it stuttering?"

The doctor's mouth falls open and he glances at me before a grin stretches across his face. "The heartbeat isn't stuttering, Frank," He explains.

"Holy shit," I hear Mikey mutter. I look over at him and he watches the screen in shock.

"You mean--" Josh's mouth falls open, too.

"They were overlapping," Doctor Webb nods excitedly. "Yes!"

"No!" I say quickly. " _What_  was overlapping? What the hell do you see?!"

"The heartbeats, Frank," Webb explains, smiling down at me. "They were overlapping. That's why we didn't realize it at first."

"Heartbeat _s_?" I ask. My chest feels tight all of a sudden and I swallow hard, my throat feeling too dry. "Like plural? With an S?" Doctor Webb nods again and my eyes nearly bulge out of my head when I realize what he's saying. "There are two of them!?"


	32. \(.3.2.)/

"This really is remarkable," Doctor Webb says. He's watching me curiously, his eyes gleaming with enticement. I shift uncomfortably, cringing away from his gaze.

"Can you tell what they are?" Josh wonders, stepping forward and watching the monitor. "Or a due date? Or anything?"

"Due date should be easy..." The doctor mumbles. He presses a few more things, taking measurements and clicking his tongue. We all wait in anticipation, when finally he smiles. "Twins are usually smaller than single-born children, so the due date could be off by a week or so, but best guess would be December twenty-seventh."

I let the words sink in. Everything. I'm having not one, but  _two_  babies. In December. In  _six fucking months_ , I'm going to be a dad. And a mom, I suppose...

"And the sex?" My mom asks. "Can you tell?"

Doctor Webb's face twists up in a frowning grimace of some sort, making him look kind of constipated, and he shakes his head, zooming in on the screen. "It's really too early to tell this way. And unless they move, I won't be able to." He points a slim finger at an indecipherable mess of static, saying, "They're very close right now, but once they shift positions, I'll be able to get a better look. In a  few weeks, perhaps." He pauses for a moment before turning on his stool to face us, his eyes lighting up again. "However, there is a test that can determine almost one hundred percent what the sex's will be  _now_." I wait silently for him to continue, though as soon as he speaks, I want to tell him to stop. "It's called Amniocentesis," He explains. "By obtaining a sample of the placenta, a test can be administered to find out the genders."

Mom is the one who decides to ask the question bouncing around in my head. "And how exactly would the sample be obtained?"

Doctor Webb shakes his head, waving a hand, as though it's but a small detail. "A hollow needle will be injected through the abdomen and wall of the uterus."

My eyes widen and I find myself shaking my head. No way in hell is he jamming a needle into my stomach! Mom, once again, is the one to speak up, looking doubtful as well. "That sounds dangerous, to say the least."

The doctor shrugs. "Of course, as any invasive tests, it runs it's risks."

"What kind of risks are we talking?" Josh interrupts. His blue eyes are narrowed at the doctor and I feel a minute amount of pride at the protective edge in his voice.

"Well..." Webb looks hesitant for a moment, shifting his gaze to each of us in turn. "A small percent of women experience miscarriages or infections that could lead to a miscarriage."

"No," I state simply. My words come out calm which surprises me because my thoughts are anything but. If a small percent of  _women_  experience miscarriages, what are my odds? This isn't supposed to be possible as it is-- Obviously, my risks are a little higher already. I shake my head. "No way in hell!"

"It's a very small percent," Doctor Webb interjects, trying to sound rational. "And the test could give much more insight into your pregnancy. It could even explain  _how_  it occurred."

"I know how it occurred," I state, getting angry. "I had sex. End of story."

"You're a  _boy_ , Frank," The doctor laughs. His voice gets more excited and he grins. "Nothing about this is simple. Something is physically mutated in you which is making it possible for you to even be pregnant. Don't you understand how remarkable this is?"

I shake my head again and motion for the tissues, which Mikey hands me without a word. I begin wiping the gel off and pull my shirt down. Jumping to my feet, I cross my arms and glare at him. I'm set on leaving now but Doctor Webb is still talking eagerly. "If you would just agree to the test, we could all get a better understanding of how--"

"What I  _understand_  is that, possible or not, I'm having a baby," I snap. "Two of them! How it happened isn't important to me right now. What I care about is coping with this. I'm not your fucking science experiment and I'm not your test subject. You're telling me that if I agree to this test, I could lose both of them. I don't care how  _remarkable_  this is to you-- Their lives aren't worth your data."

The room is silent and I can feel everyone watching me. For a second, I expect someone to start a slow clap, but before anyone has the chance, I turn to my mom. "We're leaving."

With a small smile playing at the corners of her lips, she nods and the others follow me out of the building.

•••

"What do you mean there are two?" Gerard asks, his forehead creasing as he studies me.

On the drive home, I had texted Gerard and told him to meet me at my house. I needed someone to talk to and I knew he would listen. More than that, I think I needed someone who would tell me what to do, who would say exactly what I needed to hear even if I wasn't sure what that might be. So here we were; I was pacing my bedroom floor, freaking out, while he sat on the bed watching me.

"There are  _two_ ," I repeat. "Two heartbeats. Two little bodies and two little heads. Gerard, there are two  _babies_." I stop the pacing and throw my hands up in a gesture that says nothing and everything at once. I shake my head desperately, feeling that familiar panic building up again. "What the hell am I supposed to do?"

Gerard takes a deep breath and stands up. Stopping directly in front of me, he bites his lip and sighs, saying the last thing I want to hear right now; "I don't know." He shakes his head sadly, his eyes locking with mine so I can't look away. "Frank, I know you want me to tell you what to do, but I can't. I can't tell you to keep them or to give them up or to go through with the Amnio-whatever-the-hell-it-is test because I'm not you. You're the one that will have to live with whatever choice you make. This is your life--" His eyes flash quickly to my stomach. "And theirs." Gerard takes a step closer and shrugs limply. "I can't tell you what you're supposed to do. But I can promise you that I'll support you. No matter what."

I don't know if it's his words, the overall realization that I have two little lives growing inside of me, or the damn hormones that have been harassing me, but I can feel the wetness of tears stinging my eyes. I swallow them down and nod. Stepping closer, I wrap my arms around Gerard's waist and breathe in deeply.

It was exactly what I needed to hear.

We're only in that position for a moment before a throat clears and I reluctantly pull away, turning to face the boy who stands in the doorway of my bedroom. Zacky looks at me with a hard expression, his arms crossed tightly against his chest. "Sorry if I'm interrupting something," He says dryly.

I roll my eyes, scoffing. "Grow the fuck up, Zacky."

He shakes his head, glancing between the two of us before taking a step forward. As he enters the room, I see that Mikey and Josh stand just behind him. Josh's camera is up, red light beaming, while Mikey just watches Zacky's movements. His face is neutral, but the way his jaw clenches shows me that he's ready to pounce if Zacky makes the wrong move.

Zacky glances around at each of us before his gaze lands on me. "I thought we were going to talk."

"We are." I mimic his posture, crossing my arms and planting my feet in the carpet. "Talk."

He sighs. "Alone?"

I shake my head. "You want to talk about the babies," I say. "So talk. My friends are staying."

Zacky sighs heavily. "Will you stop treating me like I'm a fucking fugitive or something? I'm still your boyfriend."

"I think you stopped being his boyfriend when you told him to abort Baby Iero," Josh interjects. I cast him a glance that silently tells him to shut up. He instantly focuses back on his filming.

"I don't want to break up with you, Frank," Zacky says, sounding irritated. "I just... Don't want a kid. I'm not ready for that and neither are you. I still want to be with you."

I laugh, shaking my head. "You don't want me, Zacky. You want sex. And I'm sure you've found it elsewhere already."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Zacky demands.

"It means that I know about you fucking Synyster!" I exclaim. I throw both of my arms up and laugh again. It surprises me that it's an honest laugh; I'm not upset anymore. It actually feels freeing to be laying all of this out-- No more secrets, no more lies. We're all finally learning the truth, even if it isn't going to end with everyone happy. "I know that you've been cheating on me this entire time and that the reason you wanted me to stay away from Gerard was because you were afraid he would tell me. It means that I'm done screwing around with you. We are done, Zacky."

I smile at the end. It feels like a giant weight has been lifted off my chest and I'm finally able to breathe. I know it will probably hit me later, the fact that I'm actually leaving the only person I've ever loved, but right now it feels liberating.

But the look on Zacky's face doesn't match mine. He looks pissed and offended and jealous as he takes a step forward and grabs my wrist. "We're talking about this alone," He states in a low voice and pulls on my arm. When I don't follow, he jerks harder, his grip tightening.

I let out a small huff of pain. "Let go of me. I'm not going anywhere with you."

Zacky pulls again, dragging me forward only a step before everyone moves at once. Mikey pushes past Josh in the doorway, but Gerard is the one who gets to us first. "Get your fucking hands off of him!" He yells. Zacky's grasp doesn't loosen and he scoffs once before Gerard moves again. A fist moves past me in a blur, connecting sharply with Zacky's jaw. His head snaps back and the hand on my wrist disappears. I'm frozen, wide-eyed, trying to comprehend what I just saw. Another hand pulls on me and I stumble back into Mikey. He pushes me back a little, out of Zacky's reach.

In an instant, Gerard is in Zacky's face. He's unconcerned with the fact that blood is trickling out of a cut on Zacky's lower lip, glaring at him. The look on Zacky's face clearly says that he's fighting back every impulse to attack Gerard, probably well aware that he's outnumbered here. "Stay the fuck away from him," Gerard commands, pure loathing dripping from his words. Somehow, through the haze of shock that covers me, I manage to step forward. Mikey's arms tighten around me, but I glance back at him, shaking my head. A second's hesitation later, he lets go.

I step up next to Gerard, crossing my arms and glaring at the boy before me. "We're done, Zacky," I repeat, my voice low and void of most emotions that are spinning through my head. "You chose that when you decided to sleep with Syn. But now I'm making my choice; I want to keep them. Maybe I'm not old enough or mature enough, maybe I'll be a shitty parent and they'll grow up hating me. But at least I'll be there for them. I'm not giving up on them before they even have a chance to live. They're mine--  _ours_ \-- and I'm gonna make damn sure they stay safe. So now you decide; Are you in, or are you out?" I take a small step closer, emphasizing my question. "You can be a part of this, Zacky. You're their father, just as much as I am. Or you can leave now and stay gone. We're done, but that doesn't mean that they have to grow up without a dad."

To my surprise, Zacky laughs. His lips spread into a smile and he shakes his head, his bright eyes gleaming with malice. "You're even more pathetic than I thought if you seriously think I'm going to throw everything away for some kid."

" _Kids_ ," I correct sadly, looking down. "There are two of them, Zacky. We're having twins."

"No." I look up at Zacky who is shaking his head. " _You're_  having twins."

I bite down on my lip, biting back the sadness that I can feel washing over me in waves. He's made his decision, I can't change that. Maybe I'm better off without him, anyway. Maybe I can do this by myself. The thought hits me a little too harsh, jerking me away from sadness as anger surges up instead. I shouldn't have to do this without him. This is just as much his responsibility as it is mine. Why is he allowed to just walk away?

Zacky is watching me with a placid expression. This is easy for him. He can turn his back on me, on his own kids, and pretend like it never happened. "Did you ever mean it?" I demand, furious tears swelling in my eyes. "When you said you loved me. Did you ever actually mean it?"

Zacky stares at me for a moment longer before pursing his lips. He leans a bit closer, looking unapologetic as he lowers his voice. "You were so desperate," He says, amusement clear in his voice. "You would do anything I wanted.  _Anything_." He laughs softly. "I didn't want your friends to convince you I was using you, so I told you what you wanted to hear."

"You fucking asshole," I spit. I curse the tears that are now staining my cheeks in warm streaks. I've known this, but it still aches in my chest as I hear the words actually coming out of his mouth. "You used me. You lied to me this whole fucking time! I hate you. I hate you so much."

Zacky smiles and winks down at me. "No you don't Frankie." He states and then leaves the room.

I stand there for a few moments in the silence. My lungs feel constricted and painful, my heart pounding at an agonizing rate because I know he's right. As much as I want to hate him right now, I don't.

I look around the room. My friend's are quiet, watching me with sympathy filled eyes. It only hurts me more and I feel the sudden urge to flee from the room. Josh, standing at the door, still has the camera up, the red light focused on me. "Get that fucking thing out of my face!" I yell and storm past him, down the hall. Slamming the bathroom door shut behind me, I don't bother locking it. I slide my back down the door, falling to the ground in a heap of emotions and let myself cry.


	33. Thirtyyyyy Threeeeee

"Frank..." My name, accompanied by another soft knock, sounds through the bathroom door. "You have to come out of there sometime, Frankie. Please."

I shake my head, sniffling and resting my forehead on my knees. "Go. Away." Tears thicken my voice, sticking in my throat and making me sound sick.

"You've been in there for an hour, Frank," Josh tries again. "Come on, just please open the door." I ignore his pleads and it's silent for a few long moments. When he finally talks again, his voice is lower, sounding desperate and defeated through the wood. "Gerard wants to come in. Will you at least let him in?"

I think about that for a second before standing up. Josh must hear my movements because the door handle jiggles and I lean my weight against the barrier. My forehead against the wood, I inhale the oak smell and sigh. "Mikey," I finally say. "I want Mikey."

Only a few seconds pass before another knock hits the door. "It's me."

I stand back and pull the door open only a crack, enough for Mikey to slip into the room with me. He instantly shuts it back behind him and studies me. I don't have to look to know that my eyes are bloodshot and puffy, tears staining and drying on my pale cheeks. I wipe the back of my sleeve across my face and sniffle again, choking out a small sob.

"Frank--" Mikey starts sadly, but I shake my head, cutting him off. I know exactly what he's going to say and I don't want to hear " _I'm sorry_ " coming out of his mouth. None of this is his fault. He shuts up and purses his lips slightly. I take the tiny step forward, literally falling into his arms and burying my face in his shoulder.

This is why I needed Mikey. I didn't care if he saw me like this. He was my best friend and I knew he would always be here for me. No matter what.

It's silent when my crying eventually dies down again and I pull away. I wipe at my eyes and turn to face my own horrible reflection in the mirror. I was right about what I looked like; Pale face, red eyes. But the one thing that caught my attention the most was the desolation that seemed to be hidden behind my hazel irises. It was a dull color, void of any feeling, and I could see that. Apparently Mikey can see it too, as he steps around me. He pats the countertop silently and I hop onto it, watching his swift movements as he grabs a blue washcloth from the cabinet and starts wetting it under the faucet. He's quiet, dragging the cold rag across my cheeks and eyes. When he's finished, he drops the cloth into the hamper and stands in front of me, his arms hanging loosely at his sides.

"I know you hate sympathy," He states. "So I'm not saying I'm sorry. I'm not. Zacky was an asshole and it sucks you had to find out this way. But..." Mikey hesitates, shrugging and shifting his weight. "I think it's going to get better now. You gave him a choice and if he doesn't want to be a part of this, he's the one missing out."

I feel tears building again, but they don't spill over. My lip quivers only slightly when I ask, "How am I supposed to deal with this alone?"

Mikey frowns, shaking his head. "You've got us, Frank. You're never gonna be alone."

A sad smile forms on my lips and I look down. I knew that-- Mikey, Josh, Gerard. They would be here for me. "I love him, Mikey. I want him to be here. I should be pissed at him, I should have told him to leave. I should have screamed at him for cheating on me and for lying to me. But I'm sitting in a bathroom crying--" I pause and laugh at myself because I know I'm acting irrationally. Thinking back to what Gerard said a few days ago, I bite down on my lip. Reality is me being a pregnant sixteen year old boy.  Freaking out is a rational response, it's realistic and understandable. Maybe this-- crying in a bathroom because my boyfriend left me alone-- is rational, too. I look up at Mikey and shrug. "In the end, I  _wanted_  him to stay. I  _wanted_  him to say that he would be a part of this."

"Frank," Mikey sighs, hopping up to sit on the counter beside me. He bumps his shoulder against mine and pushes the glasses further up on his nose with a single finger, watching me with framed hazel eyes. "Dude, it sucks. I know that. I don't know how it feels-- Hell, this entire situation is new to everybody-- but I get that you still love him. It's not like your feelings for him are gonna just disappear. You're hurt. You're not just gonna move on. You don't just get over something like that. It's gonna take time and we all get that."

I glance over at Mikey and purse my lips. "You never have a girlfriend," I state. "Are you gay?"

Mikey laughs and shakes his head. "I don't like to date," He says simply. "I don't generally like people."

I grin and nudge him proudly. "You like me."

"I tolerate you because you're my best friend." He smirks and I shove him, nearly making him fall off the counter. Laughing, he straightens up and stands. "So are you going to come out now or should I have your bed moved in here as a permanent arrangement?"

I roll my eyes, jumping off the counter and chuckling. I pull him into one final hug and say, "Thank you, Mikey."

He groans sarcastically and lets his head fall back. "You're getting all sappy, man." I knee him without moving out of the embrace and laugh when he dodges the knee to the crotch, hugging me back. "You're my best friend, Frank," He says seriously. "I hate seeing you get hurt. But if it's any consolation, did you see the way my brother fucking punched him?"

I let out a laugh and nod. "I thought Gerard was against violence or whatever."

Mikey's eyes widen a little and he grins, amused. "Oh, he is. He hates fighting. He used to get beat up in middle school all the time-- Kids would literally chase him home just to call him a fag and that was before he even came out. But he never fought back. He said violence never solved anything or something like that." He shrugs, his mouth turned up in a smile. "Guess he changed his mind."

I laugh softly as well. "Yeah, guess so." I shake my head and breathe out heavily, gesturing to the door and saying, "After you."

When I emerge from the bathroom behind Mikey, I'm not surprised to see both Josh and Gerard in the hallway outside. Gerard is leaning against the wall opposite the door, his head back and his fingers tapping anxiously on his bent knee. Josh stands next to him, staring down at the screen of his silver camera, presumably going through his most recent footage. I don't even want to think about what that camera caught-- Zacky and I fighting, him rejecting me, leaving me...

I cross my arms tightly and look down at my feet as Gerard and Josh both notice me. Gerard jumps up, coming forward a step before stopping and looking awkward. Josh doesn't hesitate as he throws his arms around me. I stumble back a little and laugh, patting his back. "I'm fine," I tell him, but my eyes lock with Gerard's. "Really."

That's not completely true and I think we all know that, but nobody calls me out on the lie. Mikey was right; It was going to take time for me to be fine. I pull out of Josh's hug and glance at each of them. "Look, can we focus on something else?" I ask. "Like how exams are in two days I've been too busy with ultrasounds to study?"

"Frank's right," Gerard says, shrugging his shoulders at Mikey. "Mom and Dad are still at Aunt Marie's until Tuesday. We could spend the weekend cramming at our place."

Mikey looks between Josh and I. I'm the first to nod. "I'm in." Just as the response leaves my mouth, I hear the sound of a door opening downstairs. Sighing internally, I bite down on my lip, knowing that noise is signalling us to my dad's arrival. He's treated me like a disease since I told my parents I was having a baby yesterday. I didn't want to be here when my mom broke the news that there were actually  _two_  babies. "I just need to grab my bookbag," I state. "Then we can leave." Without leaving room for argument, I make my way into my bedroom, grabbing the backpack, slipping on my shoes, and heading down the stairs.

Dad is sitting on the plain brown couch, bent double and unlacing his boots. I hesitate in the walkway, feeling my friends' presence behind me, but I can't move when he looks up and his dark eyes meet mine. A small smile twitches onto my lips in a sorry excuse for a greeting. "Hey," I say.

My dad huffs in response and looks back down. The dejected smile on my face disappears and I watch my father. He's ignoring me, he's  _rejecting_  me. "Dad," I manage.

I take a small step toward him, but he shakes his head, finally meeting my gaze again. "No," Is his only response. His mouth turns down in a hard frown and he stands defiantly. "Not now, Frank."

"Then when?" I demand. "When are you going to talk to me? Dad," My voice turns pleading and I can feel my stomach twisting. "Please. Talk to me. I'm your son. You have to talk to me!"

Another sharp jerk of the head and my father's frown deepens. "Not now," He repeats. "Maybe not ever."

With that, he turns and leaves the room. I'm left with Gerard's hand on my back, leading me outside and helping me into the front seat of his car. I'm left with the same hollow feeling that returns, the same aching in my chest, and the same staining tears that sting in my eyes. I'm left wondering if his " _not now, not ever_ " was in response to my pleading he talk to me, or if he was referring to me still being his son.


	34. T̶ʜ̶ɪ̶ʀ̶ᴛ̶ʏ̶ ̶F̶ᴏ̶ᴜ̶ʀ̶

I nudge the empty pizza box, leaning back against the wall behind me and sighing. With both hands on my stomach, I bite down on my lower lip. I couldn't feel anything under the layer of shirt on skin, but I knew they were in there. Two little humans, growing and moving at a constant rate. With every passing second, they were getting bigger.

I lean my head back against the wall and close my eyes. Mikey had already fallen asleep, sprawled out and snoring lightly on the bed. Josh was curled into a ball in the corner of the room, clutching a pillow to his chest and mumbling unconsciously. Lucky bastards. I don't think I could sleep if I tried.

As if Gerard can read my thoughts, I hear his voice, soft in the quiet of the room. "Are you tired?"

I shake my head, not bothering to open my eyes. "Not really." I shrug, glancing at him. He's sitting on the floor across from me, leaning against the edge of his brother's bed frame, his knees pulled to his chest. "I think I've got too much on my mind to sleep." He nods understandingly and yawns. Something tells me he's only awake by this point for my benefit. "You can sleep if you want," I laugh. "I'm allowed to be left unattended."

A blush lights up his cheeks and a small smile graces his lips. Gerard looks down. "I'm not babysitting you, if that's what you're insinuating."

I smirk, but my eyes narrow, watching him. "Then what  _are_  you doing?" I ask. I cross my legs and sit up straighter, resting my elbows on my knees and trying to ignore the part of my brain that wonders how much longer I can sit like this before my stomach gets in my way. "We've been going through Biology terms and cramming World History notes for like four hours," I shove the open notebooks for emphasis, laughing. "And you don't even take these classes. Don't you have your own exams to study for?

Gerard grins and shrugs his shoulders, rocking a little from side to side. "I like helping," He claims. "I told you I'm gonna help you with all of this--" He motions to me with one arm, encompassing my pregnancy, emotional instability, and love life issues in the single gesture. "And if that includes making sure your ass passes Sophomore year, then so be it." He shrugs again and stretches out his legs in front of him. "Besides, I'm not too worried about my exams. Surprisingly, I don't have much of a social life outside of taking you to ultrasounds and I've found time to study before now."

I laugh lightly, but my gaze drops from his and I suck in my lower lip. I feel my eyebrows creasing and I narrow my eyes at the carpet beneath me. "Thanks for all that, by the way," I mutter. "I don't know if I can say that enough for everything you've done for me. The ultrasounds and the blood test and just listening to me bitch about how fast everything is happening."

"Hey," Gerard's voice is soft and I look up, realizing that he's shifted closer to me. He's on his knees in front of me, watching me with a curious gaze. His hazel eyes catch mine and I see something dark in them. Mysterious. He smiles. "You don't have to thank me, Frank," He says. "I...  _like_  helping. I know it's gotta be hard, especially with  _him_  not being here," It's surprising that Gerard doesn't say  _his_  name, like he knows that it's too soon for me to even hear Zacky's name without bursting out in tears. "But I want to make sure you have everything you need. For you and for them." His gaze shifts to my stomach and I feel my chest clench.

I nod slowly, not sure what else to say.  _Thank you?_  It doesn't seem like enough anymore, a simple thanks. So I lean forward and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer and hugging him, letting the embrace convey all the gratitude I would never be able to say.

Of course, the moment is ruined when my stomach growls, alerting the silent room that it is in need of feeding. I groan, pulling away and folding my arms across my chest. "How the hell is is possible for me to still be hungry?" I demand. "I ate the majority of that pizza."

Gerard just shakes his head, laughing, and pushes himself to his feet. Looking down at me, he holds out a hand. "You're eating for three now," He says. "Come on. Let's go feed the babies."

I slip my hand into his and allow myself to be pulled to a standing position. Following him downstairs, I feel awkward suddenly. With Mikey, I would usually just throw the refrigerator door open and scavenge for food like it's a lifeline, but with Gerard, I hesitate in the kitchen doorway. Fidgeting from one foot to the other, I watch as Gerard moves swiftly across the room. When he realizes I'm standing awkwardly in the doorway, he smiles and nods to the counter. I follow his silent command and sit down.

The next fifteen minutes are spent watching Gerard move around the small kitchen, pulling out different things and cracking eggs, mixing and spatulating. In only a matter of time, Gerard was handing me a plate, a steaming omelette (which was on the plate... Obviously.) and a fork. He smiles once and turns back to the mess that now clutters the kitchen island, tossing the skillet into the sink and putting various objects into the fridge, humming as he moves.

"You seriously didn't have to make me food," I say, feeling guilty.

Gerard comes to sit next to me when he's finished and shakes his head. "You were hungry," He states simply. "And now you have food."

"I could have made it myself," I continue.

Again, Gerard shakes his head, laughing. "It's fine," He says. Still, I don't budge. Gerard sighs and grabs the fork from my hand, cutting into the omelette and taking the first bite. When he swallows it down, he cocks an eyebrow at me in amusement. "There. I made  _us_  food. Will you stop feeling guilty now?"

I roll my eyes, but take the fork back regardless and begrudgingly take a bite. As soon as the egg hit my tongue, I choked on it. "Oh my fucking hell." Gerard looks concerned and somewhat frightened at my reaction and I laugh at the bewildered expression in his eyes. I point the fork back at the plate and grin. "That's amazing," I state.

Gerard laughs and looks down, pink lighting up his cheeks. "I guess I got the good cooking genes."

I nod, chuckling and stuffing more food into my mouth. Mikey couldn't cook for shit, so it's a pleasant surprise that Gerard was different in that way.

We eat in peace, me devouring most of the omelette while Gerard steals only a few more bites. When the food is gone, I lean back on the counter, watching him place the empty plate in the sink. "Are you tired yet?" He wonders, seeing me yawn.

"A little," I admit. But even if I were to try to sleep, I'm not sure it would come. Everything spinning through my head like a tornado is making me feel both exhausted and restless at the same time. Gerard just turns off the lights and leads me back upstairs.

After a pathetic attempt at trying to shove a near lifeless Mikey to one side of the bed, I give up and steal his pillow instead. Tossing it on the floor, Gerard stops me. He looks at me incredulously and shakes his head. "You're pregnant," He states, and I cringe. Hearing that is still really new to me... "You can't sleep on the floor."

I shrug and try to wrestle a blanket from underneath Mikey. "I've done it before."

Gerard's hand appears on the blanket, tugging it out of my grip. "Well, I'm not letting you."

I sigh, defeated and retrieve the pillow from the carpet. "I can take the couch--" I begin, but Gerard stops me again with the shake of his head.

"You can sleep in my room," He offers. I'm sure he can see the guilt playing across my features for the second time tonight-- First he makes me food and now I steal his bed? "I'll sleep on the couch," He tells me with a reassuring smile. And before I have the chance to argue, he's disappearing out of the room. I trail right behind him, following him into his own bedroom down the hall. I watch as he gathers an extra blanket and pillow in his arms before turning back to me. I stand in the doorway with my arms crossed.

"If you're making me take your bed, I'm making you sleep with me." I state, and then almost instantly feel my face heat up when I realize what I just said. I look down and bite my lip, feeling awkward and embarrassed all of a sudden. "I mean-- Umm..." I stammer out a few words, trying to make my thoughts clear. Gerard just laughs softly, but when I glance up at him, he looks kind of embarrassed, too. "I just meant that we've shared a bed before," I correct myself. "I don't want to kick you out of your own room."

I risk another glance at Gerard, who is watching me with an amused smirk. I fidget uncomfortably before Gerard sighs and drops the blanket back to the mattress. "Fine," He says. "If you're sure?"

I nod, letting my arms fall to my sides and crawling onto the bed. "I'm sure."

Gerard turns off the light before joining me. I lay on my back, watching the darkness that hovers over and around me. When Gerard's side of the mattress sinks down, his arm bumping mine as he worms his way under the blankets, I turn onto my side. Letting my eyes drift shut, I find myself falling asleep easily with his warmth beside me.


	35. Capitolo Trentacinque

The words seem to blur together on the white page, the ink forming into nothing but a gray smudge.  _Oh my fuck, I have to pee_...

I wipe a hand across my eyes and blink a few times, forcing the question into focus and reading it over for the third time, though it makes no more sense to me this time around.

_Chromosomes are located in a nucleus in which of the following?_   
_A. Viruses_   
_B. Prokaryotes_   
_C. Eukaryotes_   
_D. All of the above_

Shit. I can't remember a single thing from my notes and my bladder feels as if it might explode soon. My leg bounces beneath the lab table, my pencil tapping over each answer, and then I glance up at the clock that ticks by mockingly from the wall near the door. I can't take it anymore. There are still eighteen minutes and twelve questions left. That's enough time right? Get to the bathroom and be back before time is up. Either way, I find myself circling a random answer, dropping the pencil to the desk, and raising my hand. I wave it around, just for good measure, but my biology teacher is sitting obliviously behind his desk at the front of the room, face buried in a textbook. Who the hell reads a textbook for fun? I don't have time to think about it though because I am about to pee my fucking pants.

I clear my throat quietly, hoping to draw the older man's attention. When that fails, I throw myself into an obnoxious coughing fit and say, "Mr. Benson?"

The teacher finally looks up, eyes dazed and looking rather bored when they land on me. "Yes, Frank?" He asks in a monotone.

I bounce again and drop my hand onto the black table before me. "Can I go to the bathroom?"

Mr. Benson scoffs quietly and I think I can see him roll his eyes as he turns his attention back to the book in front of him. "You can use the restroom after you've completed the test."

I shake my head frantically. "No, I can't," I argue, trying to whisper. "I have to pee. Really,  _really_  bad."

"Frank," Benson states sharply, looking up at me with a warning that shows evidently in his gaze. "There are people actually trying to pass this exam. No talking."

I huff out an angry breath because this old man is really starting to piss me off. "Yes, I'm aware. But it will be a hell of a lot more distracting if I end up sitting here in my own piss."

Benson's eyes widen and a few snickers can be heard throughout the room. "Mr. Iero, language like that is going to get you sent to the Principle's office," He says. "This is my last warning. Finish your exam and then you may leave."

I want to stand up, tear the exam in half, and force Benson to eat the shreds, but even in my current state, I know that's a bad idea. So I decide to do something almost as stupid. I flip through the last remaining pages, circling random answers without even reading the questions. When the last questions are answered, I grab the test and my backpack, and move to the front of the room. Tossing the paper onto Benson's desk, I realize his eyes never once left me. I smile sweetly and say, "There. I'm done." and practically run from the room in search of the nearest bathroom.

I end up spending fifteen more minutes in the restroom, confined in the tiny stall, because I don't want to go back to the biology room. No doubt, Mr. Benson is pissed that I bolted from the room without actually finishing my test-- or at least trying to intelligently finish my test-- but I couldn't really bring myself to care. So, while the period finished out, I found myself leaning against the stall wall, eyes closed and head back. I knew exactly why my bladder had suddenly decided to betray me during the exam, and it wasn't something I was fond of thinking about right now. What little time I had free from studying this weekend, I spent Googling pregnancy symptoms, one of which included frequent urination. Just fucking great...

When the bell rings, I wait a few minutes longer to avoid the rush of crowds swarming the halls. So when I eventually make my way into the cafeteria, I'm somewhat surprised there's already a tray of food at my usual seat, untouched between Gerard and Josh. Falling into the seat silently, I gratefully dig in. I mumble an incoherent greeting to the others, keeping my eyes locked on the lettuce like it's the most intriguing thing I've ever seen. But a few bites in, the taste begins making me nauseous and I drop the fork, looking up determinedly. "I want a fucking bagel." I state and meet Mikey's eyes across the table. "Bio was my last exam for today. Can we go get bagels?"

Mikey frowns, shaking his head and swallowing a bite of-- fuck, what the hell is he eating? Is that even edible? "I've got my geometry exam next."

I groan and turn to Josh instead. "Hey. Bitch-tits." I poke his stomach and he twists away, attempting to get a drink of his soda without spilling it. I grin. "Go get bagels with me."

My smile immediately falls again, though, when Josh shakes his head. "Can't. I have geometry with Mikey, remember?"

Another groan leaves me before I turn helplessly to Gerard. "What about you, Gee?"

"Um..." He looks up from his barely-touched meal, somewhat surprised, before meeting my eyes and nodding. Pushing the tray away from himself, he crosses his arms on the table-top. "Yeah. I'm done with my exams for today."

"Awesome!" I jump up from the table, grabbing my unfinished lunch and turning to throw it away, only to run directly into another body. The Styrofoam creases between myself and the stranger, snapping audibly and covering both his chest and my own with Ranch and bits of lettuce. "Oh, fuck!" I exclaim, stumbling back and biting down hard on my lip. "I'm so fucking sorry--"

My words are cut off when I look up at the person I ran into, meeting the familiar clear green of Zacky's eyes. Surprise and irritation flash behind the mesmerizing tint. I internally curse the all too familiar way my breath seems to catch in my throat and swallow down every word that seems to push forward.  _I'm sorry. I love you. Please come back._

But no response makes it past the aching twist in my chest, and Zacky is the first to react. He rolls his eyes and wipes a hand across his chest, only succeeding in covering it in the off-white dressing. "Maybe you should watch where you're going and you wouldn't walk into people." It's not the words per se, but the tone his voice takes on. Short, clipped, and definite. Uncaring.

I open my mouth to reply, not really sure what to even say. I don't want to apologize again, but no usual sarcastic response seems to come.  _Nothing_  seems to come. My mind is blank and my heart is wrenching painfully, and I just want to drop the tray and run toward the bathroom. So that's exactly what I do. I feel the Styrofoam slip through my fingers, meeting the floor with a dull noise that resonates in my ears. I don't look back when I push the heavy wooden door open and stumble into the boys bathroom, tripping over my own feet and falling against the metal frame of the stalls, but I can hear behind me when someone else enters only a moment later. I don't have to turn to look, feeling his hand on my shoulder hesitantly, and I know exactly who it is.

I sniffle, trying to keep my emotions from taking over and swallowing me whole. "I fucking hate what he does to me," I finally admit, but my voice cracks, broken and choked. "I love him so much, and I hate myself for that. Why can't I just hate him instead?" I spin around to face Gerard, throwing both of my arms up dejectedly in a hopeless shrug. "I can't look at him without feeling like my gut is being ripped in half. It makes me sick to even look at him, to see his stupid fucking face and know that he lied to me and he used me. But it's like... I would give anything to have him back. I would deal with the gut ripping and the heart breaking as long as it meant that he was there to make it go away."

Gerard chews the inside of his cheek for a long moment before cautiously taking a small step toward me. "I know the feeling," He admits softly, and for a second, his words catch me off-guard. There's no way that Gerard could possibly know the feeling that I'm talking about, but he looks down sadly, shuffling his feet against the tile floor and sighing almost silently. "His name was Jepha. Bert dragged me to this concert to see some band, but I ended up losing him somewhere in the crowd. I found Jepha instead and we spent the entire night just talking." He pauses, chuckling softly and shaking his head, absorbed in the memory. "That's how I lost my virginity to a complete stranger in a venue bathroom." Gerard shrugs, as if it doesn't matter now, and looks up at me once again, his eyes glimmering. "It was before I came out, before my parents knew, or Bert, or even Mikey. But Jepha was my first boyfriend. He was okay with keeping things just between us. He said that nobody had to know about our relationship because it was special and showing people that we were a couple didn't matter, as long as I was happy."

Gerard stops, looking down once more at the scuff he's creating on the pale tile. It doesn't make sense-- That can't be the end of the story. Gerard, to my knowledge, isn't dating anyone and I've never once heard of this Jepha guy. But the silence stretches on and it doesn't look like Gerard is in any hurry to continue. "So what happened?" I finally prompt.

Gerard bobs his head quietly before laughing softly and cocking an eyebrow. "I found out he was fucking my best friend." My own eyes widen and I think I can hear my heart breaking in two for him. "Yeah," He continues, smirking sadly. "At first, I was so mad at Bert. He was sleeping with the guy I loved and there was no way in hell I was going to let him explain himself. It didn't matter to me that Bert had no idea I was even gay, let alone dating Jepha. All I cared about was Jeph, and that he was mine, and Bert was trying to take that away from me. For two weeks, Bert didn't even know why I was pissed at him. And then... Shit hit the fan."

Gerard pauses again, taking a deep breath and stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets. "Bert went to my brother. Kept asking Mikey what I was bugging out about, why I was so upset. Of course, Mikey asked me about it and I just... Flipped out." Gerard bites absently on his lip. His eyes are on me, though his mind is far away now. "I told him it was none of his damn business, I started screaming at him and throwing shit and then I just broke down. I started crying and Mikey just sat down next to me and waited. When I calmed down, I told him everything. And it was then that I realized that Jepha didn't care about me. It all made sense all of a sudden-- The reason Jepha never pushed me into telling others about our relationship was because, if Bert knew, he never would have had sex with him. Bert can be an annoying asshole sometimes, but he's my best friend and he would never hurt me like that. I guess Jeph knew that, too."

Gerard grins suddenly and his eyes come into focus, meeting mine. "So when Bert found out that Jepha was fucking with me, we got even. He called Jeph, had him come over to his house, and told him that he wanted to try something new. Somehow, he convinced Jepha to put on this skirt he stole from his sister and make him pose, told him it was just for his own pleasure, so Jepha was definitely surprised when those personal pictures ended up covering every hall in the school the next day." Gerard laughs and I can't help but join in, his grin becoming contagious. That Jepha tool sounded like a dick-- He deserved what he got. "Bert ended up getting suspended for a week and Jeph's parents tried to sue because he was underage or whatever, but since he was still wearing clothes, the case never took off. Jepha ended up transferring schools and Bert never ratted me out for having something to do with the photos."

He shrugs half-heartedly and a sad smile falls onto his pale lips. "In the end, I guess I was better off. Because of him, I decided to tell people I was gay. I think it brought Bert and I closer together. I tried to act like I was happier without him, but I could only pretend for so long. I used to cry myself to sleep, wondering what I could have done to make him love me back. Before he transferred, I would pass him in the halls and just think about the way he used to look at me, how it would be if we had been more public. I would just sit there in class and wonder what it would have been like to have him kiss me by my locker or hold my hand in the hall. And every time, he would pass by me without even glancing in my direction. Like, I gave him everything and he didn't even care."

I wasn't aware of the tears stinging at my eyes until I opened my mouth to speak, feeling the burn in my throat. "What happened then?" I ask. "How did you get over him? How did you move on?"

Gerard sighs. "That was two years ago," He says. "And it still fucking hurts." He takes a step closer to me and shakes his head. "I'd be lying if I said you can just move on, because you can't. I know that it hurts to see them and know that you don't mean anything to him. But you have to know that you're better off without him. That's really the only way you can move on." He bites down nervously on his lip and brushes a few fingers through my black hair, pushing it back to show my eyes. "You've got other people that care about you, Frank. Not everyone is going to hurt you."

He smiles and I actually find myself returning the gesture. He's right, about so many things. It hurts and it probably will for a long time. Zacky took a piece of me and there was no way I was going to get it back. But maybe I could find other things, other  _people_ , to fill the void that seems to ache so agonizingly in my chest right now. And the first thing that was going to fill that void was also going to fill my stomach, I decide, as I nod and sniffle, wiping the back of my hand across my nose. "Can we go get bagels now?"


	36. Dumb

I focus on my feet, the way my black Converse, worn and beginning to tear, scuff against the pale gray tiled floor. The squeaking is barely audible over the sound of the conversations that swirl around me, other students lining both sides of the hallway and scurrying along in front of me. My back burns and I can't shake the feeling that someone is watching me.

I adjust the straps of my backpack and continue on down the hall. A shoulder bumps into mine and I glance up, my eyes immediately meeting the bright blue of Josh's. He leans in close, falling into step with me easily, and speaking in a low voice. "Dude, is it just me or is everyone watching you?"

I fucking knew it.

I look up to see what he's talking about, though I can already sense their eyes. What I don't expect is just  _how many_  people are watching me. Some make it blatantly obvious, huddled in groups and pointing fingers in my direction, while others at least try to be inconspicuous and only glance at me over their shoulders.

"And are you wearing pajama pants?" Josh steps back a bit and quirks an eyebrow at me. "Running late?"

"Yeah..." I mutter, almost silently. Of course, it was partly true. I was indeed running late to school this morning, but more due to the fact that my jeans felt suspiciously tight this morning and my only choice on such short notice was to throw on the first elastic-waistband pants I could find. "Anyway, back to them," I gesture lazily to the people that seem to surround me, closing in and becoming more suffocating with each step I take. "Why the hell are they watching me?"

I meet the gaze of a girl across the narrow hallway, her dark eyes widening before she grins and snickers something to her friend. I immediately drop my eyes and focus back on my shoes, picking up my pace.

Josh shrugs, not seeming interested. "Maybe they heard you and Zacky broke up," He suggests. "Remember the bet rumor? You think people might have had actual bets riding on it?"

I cringe, shaking my head and ignoring the dull ache in my chest. "I don't even want to think about that."

Josh drops the subject, bumping my shoulder with his once more and motioning with his head toward the open Biology door as we pass before it, silently letting me know this is his stop. "I'll see you at lunch?"

I swallow hard and force a nod. "Yeah." I don't slow down on my course to the Geometry room, instead willing my feet to move faster. I can hear conversations still continuing and I can't shake the feeling that they're all centered around me.

•••

When my first two exams are finished and the bell finally rings, signalling me it's time for lunch, I feel nothing but pure relief. My bladder is practically screaming at me for having to hold it for so long and my stomach is grumbling unhappily with the lack of food. I absently wonder if the grumbling is the babies' way of demanding to be fed. They're only eleven weeks old and they're starting to converse with me.

I make my way down the crowded hall, but before I even have the chance to make it all the way to the lunchroom, I feel hands grab me from either side and I'm directed toward the bathroom. My first response is obviously panic because who the hell is dragging me toward the restroom!? Admittedly, I do have to pee, but I'd like to do that on my own accord, not with someone else's help. But when I glance up and see Gerard and Mikey on either side of me, I relax a little. Mikey's face is lacking all expression, which isn't that abnormal. What incites a little more panic is the way Gerard's face is deliberately stony-- His lips are pressed into a thin line, his jaw set, and his eyes hard as he stares straight ahead.

They release me instantly when we're safely inside the bathroom and I turn to face them curiously. Mikey ignores me, focusing his attention on checking each stall in turn to guarantee we're alone, while Gerard has resorted to chewing nervously on his bottom lip and avoiding my gaze.

"Umm..." I say, completely confused by this point. I shift awkwardly on the balls of my feet, partially due to my bladder's demand for attention and partially because the brother's are making me really nervous. I decide to take the blunt path. "What's going on?"

Mikey moves to stand beside his brother, satisfied when he finds the bathroom is vacant. His neutral expression actually falters for a short moment and he sighs, his breath uneven. The younger Way takes a small step closer to me and speaks low. "They know, Frankie."

My eyes dart around the room quickly, suddenly paranoid that someone is listening to our conversation at this very moment. My voice matches Mikey's in volume when I ask, "Who knows?"

"They  _all_  know," Gerard speaks up, sounding louder as he speaks at normal volume. He steps up to me as well. " _Everyone_ , Frank. Or most of them, at least. They all fucking know."

I shake my head slowly, still not understanding what he's saying. "What?" I glance between the brothers, deciding I don't like it when they're panicked. The fact that they're both freaked out has me already sweating. "What do they know?"

Neither of them answer right away, but Gerard is the first to respond. "Frank..." His voice is soft suddenly, filled with sympathy, and I don't understand for what until his hazel eyes flash down to where my arms are folded tightly across my lower torso. I look down, too, for a moment before I realize what exactly he's referring to.

"No," I shake my head, the gesture quickly becoming fervent. "No, that's not possible. They can't know." My voice rises in volume and pitch with the instant panic that consumes me. "There's no fucking way! How the hell could anybody know I'm pregnant? That's not possible."

Mikey breathes out a long breath and reaches under his glasses to rub his eyes. "Nobody  _should_  know," He agrees. "But they do."

"How?" I demand. My stomach begins churning, my urgency to pee and eat seeming lost and replaced with an uneasy feeling that swirls deep in my gut. My words become chokes, my breathing shallow. "How did they find out?"

Gerard shakes his head this time, shrugging and watching me sadly. "We don't know. Do you think--" His words are cut off and he bites his lip again, seeming to re-think his words, but sighs and decides to ask anyway. "Do you think Zacky told someone?"

My head is spinning, my mind not wanting to focus on his question. I'm still trying to come to terms with the fact that everyone in the  _entire school knows that I'm a pregnant boy_. It seems impossible. I'm still trying to cope with this situation on my own. I'm not ready for everyone else to know. It's none of their damn business anyway!

"Frank!" I look up at the voice, realizing that Gerard is watching me with a scared expression playing plainly across his features. His hands grasp my shoulders on either side and for a long moment I see nothing beyond the bright hazel irises that bore into me, black pupils shrunken into tiny dots under the florescent overhead lights. "Frank, look at me." I ignore his words, clearly already staring at him. "Frankie, calm down. Listen to me, you need to calm down."

"What's happening!?" Mikey's terrified voice barely registers and I only see him from the corner of my eye.

"I think he's having a panic attack," Gerard replies. His voice is strained and his hands instinctively tighten on my arms. A panic attack? It's only then that I take notice of my own body. I'm shaking, every part of me seeming to vibrate with tremors. My chest pulses with a painful ache, my lungs constricted and refusing to work. I can't breathe. I inhale sharply, exhaling just as quickly in a rugged pant, before it happens again. Gerard turns quickly to his brother. "Mikey, go get the nurse!" He commands and the younger Way abides, instantly dashing from the room. And then Gerard's eyes are back on mine.

"I can't--" I try to form a full sentence, my body hurting everywhere. Panic is swirling around me and I just have the sudden urge to cry. "Can't... breathe--" I try again. "I can't--"

"I know, I know," Gerard nods. He looks terrified, watching me with wide eyes. "Shh just... Focus on slowing your breathing, okay? Can you do that? Try to hold your breath... Okay?" He strokes a hand through my hair in a gesture that would usually be calming, but I can't focus. I can't do anything aside from pant in and out. I try a few times to hold a single breath in, but painful inhales hinder my futile attempts.

Gerard looks like he might start panicking soon, too, worry etched onto his face as his forehead creases and his lower lip shakes slightly. He bites down on it a few times before he curses under his breath and the hand that brushes through my hair slips down to curl around the back of my neck and he pulls me closer.

His lips collide my with mine, sending a surprised spark down my spine. My eyelids flutter shut and I can focus on nothing but how soft his mouth is on my own, lips parting slightly and sliding against mine.

It only lasts a few seconds before he slowly releases me and leans back. My eyes open, widening and staring at Gerard in complete and utter shock. "What the hell was that?" I ask, my voice no louder than a whisper.

Gerard, looking just as surprised as I feel, looks down quickly before allowing his gaze to meet mine again. His tongue runs along his bottom lip once and he shrugs limply. "I saw that on a TV show once," He says. "You weren't holding your breath. You needed to hold your breath."

I swallow hard and realize with a twinge of relief that he's right. My breathing has slowed out to an almost even pace, my chest loosening, my shaking nearly ceased.

"I'm really sorry, Frank. I--"

I shake my head quickly, cutting his words off and studying Gerard closely. "That... Actually worked. Umm... Thank you. I guess."

Gerard chuckles nervously and nods slowly. "You're welcome."

Silence falls over us for only a second before the bathroom door is flung open and Mikey, with Miss Zimmerman trailing close behind, storm into the room. They stop when they see me, now calmed down and no longer mid-panic-attack, and Mikey breathes a heavy sigh of relief.

"You scared the shit out of me," He says, pulling me into a quick hug. "I thought you were going into cardiac arrest or something, holy  _fuck_!"

I laugh and pull away from him, glancing at Gerard with a smile. "I'm fine. Really. Gerard got it under control."

Miss Zimmerman made me follow her to the nurses office anyway, just to double check that everything was in fact alright. Mikey brought me lunch, leaving me alone to eat and rest before my last exam of the day. I didn't want to go back out there and face them all, knowing that they knew about Baby Iero's. How much did they know? Did they know Zacky was the dad? If he had been the one to tell someone, then it was probably obvious he was the father. The  _other_  father...

I lay down on the uncomfortable cot, sighing and closing my eyes. It was making my head hurt, thinking about all of this. However, when I drifted to sleep, it was peaceful, as the thoughts left me alone for a little while, my mind instead spinning with the sensation of how Gerard's lips felt against mine...


	37. 37

I press the pencil harder into the paper, flinching when the lead snaps off and rolls across the desk before dropping to the floor. I push on the eraser again, forcing more granite from the tip of the pencil only to have it break off as well. Staring down at the broken piece sitting just above question forty-six, I flick it away and watch as it disappears across the room. As I grip the mechanical pencil tighter in my hand, I feel the cheap plastic begin to protest between my fingers.

I can hear them. They don't think I can, their voices somewhat muffled by the small distance between our desks, but I know they're talking about me. Since the discovery during lunch today that probably everyone in the entire school knows about my pregnancy, I've started to think they're all speculating about me behind my back. So when I hear two female voice gossiping behind me when I'm attempting to finish my Geometry exam, it's no surprise that my paranoia kicks in.

One of the girls giggles and I drop my pencil to the desk, angrily spinning in my chair and settling them with a hard glare. "Do you mind?" I demand. "You’re being kind of annoying. Could you shut the hell up?"

The girl who was laughing frowns, flipping some light brown hair from in front of her eyes and shifting in her desk. Her perfectly drawn eyebrows come together in the middle and she narrows her eyes at me, opening her mouth to speak before another voice cuts her off.

"Frank?" I look up, meeting the curious gaze of my math teacher, one eyebrow raised as she appraises me. "Is there a problem?"

"They're talking," I sigh. I feel like a total nerd ratting them out-- normally it wouldn't bother me that people were whispering when I was trying to take a test. Normally though, they wouldn't be talking about me or what's in my stomach.

The teacher nods and looks behind me to the girls. "Quiet until everyone is finished."

The pair behind me mumble a soft "yes ma'am" and I turn my full attention back to the question at hand, reading it through again and trying to keep my lead from breaking off for a third time.

When the last bell finally resonates in the quiet room, I take my time putting everything back into my bag before turning my test in, waiting until most of the students have shuffled out of the room. Sliding my test packet onto the desk, I keep my head down and follow the herds into the hallway. I’m only barely through the door when a hand lands on my shoulder and I jump, looking up and meeting Matt’s eyes. I immediately relax and smile. “Hey.”

“What’s up?” It’s a simple question, but I can hear the real concern behind the words as he follows me through the hall, toward my locker.

I sigh, shrugging and trying to avoid eye contact with everyone we pass at all costs. “They’re all acting like I’m a fucking specimen under a microscope,” I admit, my voice so low I’m not completely sure he can hear me. “They’re all just watching me, but nobody will say anything.” I look up at Matt when we reach my locker, pulling it open and taking my History textbook out. “Do you know how everyone found out yet?”

Matt shakes his head, leaning against the row of lockers next to me. “Not yet. Josh tried asking a few people, but nobody will tell him. They just keep asking if it’s real or not.”

“And what did he tell them?” I zip my backpack shut and toss it over my shoulder.

Matt pushes off from the wall, following me further down the hall. “Knowing Josh?” He scoffs. “He probably called them a peasant, rolled his eyes, and refused to answer.”

When we reach the black Malibu, Gerard and Mikey already waiting inside for me, I wave at Matt, who ventures off across the lot to meet Andrew. Inside the car, I claim the space next to Gerard and settle back into the comfortable fabric of the seat. The brother’s are silent for most of the ride, thankfully leaving me time to my own thoughts. I’m quietly glad that Gerard doesn’t mention what happened in the bathroom earlier, leaving Mikey clueless to the fact that he kissed me. It meant absolutely nothing-- He did it because he thought it would help my panic attack, and it did. There was nothing more to it-- but I knew Mikey wouldn’t let me live it down if he knew.

The silence of the car, however, is shattered when we make the final turn onto my street. “What the hell?” I look up at Mikey’s confusion and realize what he’s  _what-the-hell_ -ing about. Vans line both sides of the road, blocking driveways and even angling illegally across lawns. Each one dawns a different logo on the side. As Gerard pulls up in front of my house, I see a group of humans gathering like a herd on my front yard, trampling my mother’s flower bed and stampeding my privacy with their fancy black shoes. A few of the people hold notepads, pens or pencils tucked haphazardly behind their ears, while others with microphones stand before cameras speaking words I can’t hear.

“Are those reporters?” I spin in my seat to face Gerard and Mikey, both of whom are gaping at the sight before us. I throw up my arms, jabbing my thumb in the direction of my popular home. “Fucking news reporters?!”

The car is silent for a long time, the group waiting outside my house oblivious to Gerard’s car stopped precariously in the middle of the road. I slink down in my seat, watching them and trying to make sense of everything-- Three months ago, everything was normal. I was a complete nobody. I had a crush on Zacky Baker that I never even dreamed would become a reality. And now here I was, hiding from news vans and staking out my own house.

“We can’t let him go out there,” Mikey decides, shaking his head and looking to his brother for confirmation. “Right?”

“No,” Gerard agrees easily. He shifts the car into gear and pulls away down the street. A few minutes later, we stop in front of the Way house and, since no reporters are harassing them, we climb out. I drop my bag on the floor in the front hallway and move into the living room, falling onto the couch and groaning. I bury my face in the pillow, breathing in through the material.

“I know you’re freaked out,” I hear Mikey say from beside me. “But you can’t suffocate yourself.”

“Who’s suffocating themselves?”

I look up as Donna comes into the room and raise a hand. “I am.”

Gerard lifts my feet from the couch, claiming the cushion beneath them before dropping my legs back into his lap. “You can’t suffocate yourself. Baby Iero’s need that oxygen to grow, you know?”

I shoot him a look that silently tells him to shut the hell up, but he just shakes his head. “My mom already knows,” He explains laughing. “Mikey let it slip that we were going to an ultrasound and she about lost her shit thinking he knocked some girl up.”

Donna settles in the recliner across from the sofa, a mug of coffee in her hands. She watches me from above the brim, steam clouding my view of her hazel eyes, and nods. “I’m surprised you told everyone else, though,” She says, sympathy lacing through her words. “To broadcast it over the news like that probably took a lot of balls.”

I shift on the couch and lean closer to her, nearly falling off of the sofa. But Mikey is the first to speak. “What do you mean, broadcast it all over the news?” He demands. “We passed by his house and there were reporters there, but he didn’t talk to anybody.”

Donna looks surprised, her brows raising, and she sets the mug down on the end-table. “They’ve been playing it all day,” She says and points a stubby finger toward the television. “Turn it on.” But Mikey is already striding the short distance to the TV, flipping it on and coming to stand near me.

After a few channel changes, we settle on a station that’s talking about some “new miracle of science” in Belleville, New Jersey. The screen shifts from a man seated in a studio to a slender woman in red standing in front of my house.

“Hey Jack,” The woman smiles. An orange box appears at the bottom corner of the screen with the woman’s name, Susan Barakat, and the previous “miracle of science” statement. “I’m standing in front of Frank Iero’s home right now in what is usually a quiet area of Belleville, New Jersey. Early this morning, a man came forward with shocking new proof of a pregnant male.”

The room falls silent, the tension hanging heavy like a noose. Everyone is thinking the same thing, but no one wants to say it first--  _Did Zacky come forward?_

“I’m here with that man right now.” Susan grins and the camera pans out, an attractive and familiar face stepping into view. “So, Doctor Webb, can you tell us about your new discovery?”

My heart sinks and my chest constricts when the Doctor smiles at the camera. “Of course, Susan. Well, it began as just another normal blood test when the results of a pregnancy were revealed. Upon further investigation, we learned that Mr. Iero was actually pregnant with not one, but two fetuses.”

Susan nods, shifting her microphone and concentrating on Doctor Webb. “That seems pretty unbelievable. But you say you have proof, correct? How can you be sure it’s not just a hoax or prank?”

Webb grins, the excitement evident on his features. He makes me want to vomit. “Yes, I have the original blood sample and results as well as two separate sonograms.”

“And will you continue to help Mr. Iero throughout his entire pregnancy?”

Before he has a chance to reply, I stand up, storming across the room and turning the television off. The screen goes black but I continue staring for another long moment, fuming. “There’s no way in fucking hell I am going back to that bastard.”

“You don’t have to,” Gerard says and I can hear him standing up. I turn around to see him shaking his head, anger flaring in his dark hazel eyes though he covers it well. “We’ll find you another doctor, okay? Someone who doesn’t sell you out to some fucking press.” Oh, there’s the anger. He bites down on his lip, a gesture I really shouldn’t find so attractive, and his jaw clenches. “How can he get away with this shit?!” Gerard spins to face his mom. “Frank’s a fucking minor! He can’t just put his name out there, right? What about patient confidentiality?! There has to be something we can do!”

Donna shakes her head sadly, standing up and turning to look at the three of us in turn before her gaze settles on me. “I don’t think they really care about confidentiality or privacy right now.”

“Mom, we can’t let him go back there!” Mikey argues. “Not with the press lining the sidewalk.”

“Frank,” Donna says, turning her sad smile on me. “You know you’re welcome to stay here for as long as you’d like. But as for everything else, I don’t really think there’s much we can do. Stay away from the reporters, away from Doctor Webb--”

I scoff, crossing my arms and rolling my eyes. “Yeah, because I was totally planning on running back to him.”

Donna ignores my sarcasm, most likely used to it from her own sons. “Just lay low.” She turns back to her own children and points a finger at them each. “And you, do not let him go out alone. I don’t care if it’s just the backyard to smoke-- You guys need to keep an eye on him.”

Both of the brothers nod, casting glances in my direction. “What about school?” I ask. “I still have one day of exams left.”

“Press shouldn’t bother you there,” Donna says. “Students will probably be curious, but just try to ignore them.”

I nod and glance down at my shoes against the wooden floor. “Thanks, Donna.” I mumble.

The older woman smiles a silent welcome before grabbing her empty mug and disappearing into the kitchen. Left in the silence, I can’t help but compare her to my own mother. Is my mom worried about me right now? She’s probably barricaded herself in the house, watching through the curtains the reporters that line the street. And my dad… I don’t even want to imagine his reaction to this.

I sigh, figuring I should call them both and at least let them know I’ll be staying with the Way’s for tonight. But in the end, I simply sit back on the couch, my head in Mikey’s lap and my feet in Gerard’s, and fall asleep to the sound of them quietly playing GTA.


	38. Chapter...3eight

Fingers brush through my hair, nails just barely grazing scalp as the black locks are pulled gently through slim fingers. Someone hums softly nearby, a tune I recognize but can't place right away. It swarms around me, filling me with a serenity I've forgotten existed these past few days. I keep my eyes closed, not yet ready to fully wake up. However, when my peaceful dreamless sleep is replaced with half-conscious memories of what's actually been going on, I find myself getting restless. I recall seeing Doctor Webb's arrogant face on the television as he spread the details of my private life around like seeds on soil. And what do seeds do when they're planted? They grow. It would only be a matter of time until more news channels picked up the story, half-witted journalists, tabloids, everything would be interested in the allegedly pregnant teenage boy.

I groan and shift a little. The humming ceases and a moment later the brushing of fingers through my hair stop as well. Rubbing my eyes, I pull myself to a sitting position. Only when I take the chance to glance around do I notice I'm still on the sofa in the Way living room. Mikey has disappeared, along with Donna. Gerard sits to my right, biting down on his lip and looking meek.

"Sorry," I mumble, realizing I must have been asleep on his lap. I stretch and cross my legs on the couch, glancing in his direction.

He simply shakes his head. "You needed sleep."

I shrug, not arguing, but also not admitting that he was right. "Where's Mikey?"

"In the kitchen eavesdropping," Gerard replies. He crosses his legs now, too, mimicking my posture and shifting to face me. "My mom's been on the phone with yours for like a half hour now."

I don't bother to ask what they were talking about, instead just deciding to be silently grateful that it's Donna that has to deal with my mother rather than me. Still, I bring my knees to my chest, hugging my legs closer. "I have to go home, don't I?"

Now it's Gerard's turn to shrug. "Eventually," He agrees vaguely. "But not right away. Like my mom said, you're welcome to stay here as long as you want."

I let out a short, humorless laugh. "Yeah," I say. "I'll just take up refuge on your couch until these things are developed enough to just fall out."

Gerard returns the laugh and casts me an amused smirk. "I don't think they'll just fall out, Frank. That's not how labor works."

There's a teasing edge to his voice, but still it brings forth a topic I hadn't much thought of before now. "How  _are_  they supposed to come out?" I ask.

Gerard simply shrugs. "Same way they went in, I suppose."

My eyes widen with the complete and utter horror of his suggestion, my mouth falling open uselessly. "What!?" I demand, now absolutely cloaked in the fear of two children  _crawling out of my ass._  

Gerard, still evidently humored, but taking notice of my panic, sits up straighter, shaking his head. "I'm kidding, Frank." But I see the hesitation cross his features, the doubt in his own words. He has no more of an idea how this works than I do. "I don't know..." He admits softly, the amusement now vanishes, replaced with genuine concern. That's the issue;  _No one knows_. There is not a single person in the entire world who knows how this is happening, or why, or what's to come. Nobody fucking knows. It's like I'm a rat, thrust into the hands of a beginning Biology student who's told to figure out the cure to cancer. Nobody knows what's going to happen, they're all just winging it and hoping for the best.

Gerard sees all of this playing across my face as it races through my head and he leans forward, wordlessly bringing me into a much needed embrace. I allow my eyes to close, biting back the tears that surge forward again. These damn hormones are going to be the death of me...

A moment later, the sound of a cleared throat reluctantly brings us apart and I look toward Mikey standing in the doorway. He casts me a sad look and sighs, falling into the armchair across from me. "Your mom called the cops," He states. "She thinks they can do something to get the reporters to leave, but so far all they've been able to do is push them back onto the sidewalk and ticket their vans for parking on the grass."

"And Webb?" Gerard speaks up. "Did she tell them that little shithead is breaking confidentiality?"

Mikey bites down nervously on his lip and nods tentatively. "Yes," He says, choosing his words carefully. "But they said it's out of their jurisdiction and you have to contact someone to file a lawsuit."

"Okay?" I prompt. "That's it? I call a lawyer and I get his ass on a platter for ruining my life?"

Mikey grimaces, shaking his head slightly. "Not exactly." He sighs, seeming to deflate and just lay it all out for me. "If you take him to court, it will only draw more attention to yourself. Every news channel in the world would want to broadcast that and you'll only get more facetime. Even if you were to take it to a judge, I'm not sure you would actually win."

"How could he not win?" Gerard demands. "Webb blatantly disregarded patient confidentiality. He threw Frank under the bus on live television. There's no way any jury would find that not guilty."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Mikey sighs again, looking back and forth between Gerard and myself. "I Googled it while your mom was bitching about the footprints in her flowerbed. Basically, patient confidentiality can be overruled if the benefits of telling outweigh the benefits of keeping it secret. By telling everyone about your--" Mikey hesitates and waves his hands at me. "-- _condition_... Webb is paving the way for scientific expansion. They don't know what caused this-- a disease, some form of warfare, genetic makeup-- no one has any fucking clue, and if it can effect anyone else, they would want to know. From the looks of it, Webb would be justified in breaching confidentiality."

Silence hangs heavy in the air after Mikey's words end. The terror of unknown, the pressure, the complete hopeless feeling, it all hangs around us like a noose and I feel the urge to put my head through and jump off the chair. He's right, of course. But that doesn't make me feel any better. It just goes to prove that I am absolutely one-hundred percent fucked.

•••

To say that everyone was watching me would be an understatement. I could feel their eyes on me all through the first and second exams, even teachers watching me with curious gazes. Some were bitter disgust, others sick intrigue. I just wanted to become invisible.

I pick absently at the salad in front of me, trying to remind myself with the most cheer I could muster that the day was almost over, and today was the last of the year. When I left the school in two and a half hours, it would be over. I could sleep away the next three months in my bed, or in Mikey's if this sleeping arrangement continued and I refused to go home. I didn't want to think beyond that, to what the next schoolyear might hold.

"Frank?"

I look up at the sound of my name, glancing around the table to have my eyes land on a girl I don't recognize standing to my left. She grins and I run a hand through my hair. "Yeah?"

The girl sighs dreamily and shuffles her tennis shoes awkwardly. "Umm... Hi. I'm Tracie."

When she says nothing else, I glance around to my friends for some sort of help, though they offer none. "Okay."

"I was wondering if... Uh..." The girl stutters a few times, blushing and brushing her light brown hair behind her ear.

To my right, Josh sighs heavily. "Oh for the love of Pete Wentz. He's  _gay_ , woman. He's not interested."

Tracie's eyes widen in surprise and her blush deepens. "Oh no!" She exclaims, shaking her head. "I wasn't... No. I just... I wanted to ask you something."

I roll my eyes, turning back to my food. I'd had a few courageous people approach me over the past few hours, asking if it was real, if I was really pregnant, but I had managed to give them all evasive answers. I was prepared to ignore this girl, too. I turn to Gerard. "Look, I ate most of it. Can I have the Snickers now?  _Please_?"

He glances at my half-eaten salad before sighing and handing me the candy. I bounce on the bench seat, ripping open the wrapper and taking a large bite. Then I look toward Mikey. "Can we stop for pickles on the way home?" I wonder. "I really want some fucking pickles."

Mikey, not even bothering to look up from his tray, chuckles. "Frankie, we have pickles at the house."

I shake my head fervently, swallowing the candy before taking another bite. "I ransacked your fridge last night," I admit. "I ate an entire jar of pickles and was in the process of making toast when Gerard found me asleep in the kitchen at three in the morning."

Gerard nods easily, confirming my story. "He fell asleep on the counter and probably would have rolled off and died had I not found him."

Mikey shakes his head slowly and sighs. "How the hell did I get stuck with you as a best friend?" He wonders and looks up, his eyes fixating on something behind me. "You're still here?" He asks, raising his eyebrow. "Seriously, just leave him alone. I swear, you guys are like fucking vultures."

I look up to see who he's talking to, to see that the girl is still standing there watching us silently. Her grin has widened, her green eyes gleaming as they focus on me. "So it's true," She marvels. "What they're saying, it's all true."

I settle with rolling my eyes again. I'm about to turn away from her once more when she stops me. "I just have one question." Tracie says quickly. "I mean, this is probably none of my business, but I was just curious..." She lowers her voice, leaning closer and smiling warmly. "Who's the dad?" She waves her hands around excitedly for a moment. "A lot of people are saying it's Zacky, but now you guys are over and some people think it's Gerard, or maybe even Mikey."

Anger strikes up within me like a flare flickering to life. The mention of Zacky is enough to make me want to rip her hair out and kick her teeth in, but suggesting that the father could be Gerard, or  _Mikey_? It pisses me off. "You're right," I swallow down the bile that seems to rise in my throat at just the seemingly simple question. My movement is somewhere between a nod and a shake of my head, my jaw clenching, and I curse the tears that brim in my eyes as I glare at the girl. "It's none of your fucking business." And with that I turn back to my Snickers and set it down on the table, having lost my appetite completely.


	39. <3.9.

Water rushes over my body in searing streams, so hot it makes my vision blurry and my skin burn. There’s a dull, numb feeling under the burn, though, something that doesn’t seem to wash away with the water that swirls and disappears down the drain. My stomach protrudes only slightly, bulging in a tiny bump right in the front. A bump you wouldn’t otherwise see unless you knew there were two growing humans underneath.

I sigh, rolling my head back on my shoulders and exposing the flesh of my neck to the water pouring from the shower-head. It beats down on me in a rhythmic pattern, like rain hitting concrete. It clears my mind a little, but not nearly enough. I reach for the temperature valve and turn left, the water becoming even hotter.

I allow my eyes to close, succumbing to the pleasant burn and dull ache that washes over me with the steam. Of course, that’s when I hear a soft knock at the door. Leaning back slightly from the water, I peek around the shower curtain. “Yeah?”

A muffled voice comes back in response, but the words are lost through the wood and water. Shaking my head, I call back. “What?”

The door slowly cracks open and Gerard’s head appears, the steam clearing out a little. “I said, I have to pee,” He replies easily. He seems so unfazed by the fact that I’m bathing--  _naked_ \-- in a shower mere feet away. “Can I come in?”

I swallow hard and manage a small nod before letting the shower curtain slip back into place. Putting my head back under the shower-head, the water seems to swallow me whole, encompassing me in the calming sound and relaxing stream.

Something soft touches my hip and I immediately look down at myself, shocked and terrified when I see the pale skin of a hand. Not my own. Swallowing down the sudden lump in my throat, I try not to panic. Another hand joins the first on the opposite side. I can’t help but be mesmerized with the way the skin of these hands both clash and compare to my own. Only a slightly paler shade, pink with the hot water now rushing over the two of us.

“Gerard--” I start to argue because there’s a small, logical part of my brain that is screaming at me that this is not okay--  _My best friend’s brother is in the shower with me!_  But then his breath hits my neck, followed shortly by his lips. It’s barely even there, just a small graze of his skin against mine, a soft hum and sigh in content, but it’s enough to make my thoughts stop completely. I can feel his chest pressed against my back, fitting almost perfectly in place and sending shivers down my spine. And this time, when I say his name, it takes the form of a moan.

“Fuck,  _Gerard_ …” I can’t seem to form coherent thoughts. My head is spinning, my body aching with his touch, the sudden desire swelling like a balloon in the pit of my stomach. It’s intoxicating and I breathe him in with the steam. I lean back into him, my arms raising to circle around behind his neck, my fingers tangling with the black hair that hangs there. His lips are trailing across my skin and his hands are moving down, tracing over the curve of my hips, the line of hair that urges him even farther. My nails dig into his neck at the same time that he bites down on the hollow space of my collarbone, his hand tightening around my growing member and stroking up the length. I can’t contain the gasp that leaves my lips because…  _fucking hell,_  this feels good. My mind is blank of every rational thought, replaced with the pure ecstasy flooding my veins. This is wrong, so fucking wrong… But I can’t think of that now. Right now, I can focus on nothing but his hand around my dick and his lips on my skin and the building knot of pleasure twisting in my gut.

I bite down hard on my lip, stifling the moans that echo too loud off the bathroom walls. Gerard’s lips are trailing slick up my throat, his tongue twirling in captivating patterns while his teeth barely graze flesh, back up to my ear. He places gentle kisses there every few seconds. “Come on, Frankie. I want to hear you. I want to hear you moaning. Panting. Begging. I want you to fucking  _scream_  my name.”

And, contrary to everything the rational part of my brain was thinking, I wanted to give him all of those things. I wanted to cum so hard I saw little dots in the corner of my vision, choking on his name, and pleading for him to never stop. But more than that, I wanted to see his face. There was this overbearing urge to see his hazel eyes alight with the pleasure coursing through me, his mouth slick with my saliva, red and swollen with my kisses. I wanted him to enjoy this just as much as I was.

Letting another soft moan slip, I pull slightly away from Gerard, turning in his grasp to face him. But when I open my eyes, it’s not Gerard’s face I see.

Clear green eyes stare back in bitter amusement, the entire atmosphere changing as I look up at the smug smile on those familiar lips. Zacky grins down at me, his grip on my hips seeming too tight all of a sudden when he pulls me closer. He puts his lips near my ear, breathing out a heavy chuckle. “I knew you would miss me, Frankie.” He purrs, his voice sickening to my ears. My throat feels dry, heart sinking, my nearing orgasm long forgotten and replaced with a different twisting knot in my stomach. I think I’m going to throw up. The walls seem to crumble around me, falling in decaying bits to the tile of the shower floor, but I can’t take my eyes off of Zacky.

And then suddenly, it’s over. My head feels heavy, fuzzy and weighted down with the remaining fragments of dream. Jerked back into consciousness, I glance around the room to assure that I’m actually in Mikey’s bed, not left in the horrific shower scene of my nightmare.

I’m alone on the bed, which surprises me. For the past week since school ended, I haven’t had the courage to go home for anything. Not even a change of clothes. I’d had Donna wash the same two pairs of sweatpants I had every night, and even those weren’t mine. I’d stolen them from Gerard, nothing that fit Mikey’s scrawny ass big enough to fit over my growing baby bump. Staying with the brothers, they had kept their promise to Donna to watch over me during my stay and protect me from the media and any other outside person, including the mailman. I knew it was meant for my own good, but it felt suffocating most times. I could barely go to the bathroom in private.

A sudden weight on my bladder makes me throw the blankets off and roll out of bed. My bare feet scuff along the carpet with a faint brushing noise and I scurry toward the bathroom, thankful when I find it unoccupied. It’s only when I see the shower curtain from the corner of my eye that my dream seems to flood back to me in full, unadulterated detail, and realization hits me. I had a wet dream.  _About my best friends brother._  I shake my head, forcing myself to focus on nothing but relieving myself and clearing my mind of all the images that float through my head. On the single bright side; The terrifying ending when Gerard turned into Zacky was enough to deflate any morning wood.

As I’m washing my hands, I happen to glance in the mirror, catching my own reflection and halting my actions. My bare chest is pale, my collarbones dipping in as they always do, but something is definitely different. My stomach bulges right at the front in a way that only pregnancy would show. Slowly, I turn off the faucet, wiping my hands on my pants and turning. From the side, the bump looks even bigger. There is no way it was that big a week ago.

I frown and rest a hand on the rounded surface. At my touch, I feel something. Not against my palm, but actually  _inside_. It’s a faint brushing, like wings of a butterfly batting so softly it’s barely even there, but the split second sensation is enough for me. A small smile graces my lips and I look down at my stomach. They’re in there, two little people, growing and moving at a constant rate. And in that fraction of a second, I forget everything else-- The nightmare, the press, Zacky. Everything is so minor compared to this single feeling in my stomach. It’s both amazing and terrifying, both emotions mixing to make my head swim and leaving me feeling nothing but content in the knowledge that I’m actually doing this. I’m  _pregnant_.

I smile again and leave the bathroom.

The content only lasts until I descend the stairs, my dream coming back with every step I take. Gerard. I had a dream about  _Gerard_. By the time I reach the bottom of the stairs, I’m gnawing at my bottom lip nervously. I slowly make my way into the kitchen, easily finding Mikey as he leans against the counter inhaling a bowl of cereal. He offers a half-awake, grumbled, “Morning.”

I try to force a smile. “Morning.” It feels like he can somehow tell what my dream contained and the very inappropriate things his brother did to me. I just have to act normal.

I wander to the cabinet along the right wall and peer inside for a box of cereal that looks appetizing. My normal facade lasts all of thirty seconds before Gerard rushes into the room, a messenger bag swinging behind him. “Hey,” He says, moving swiftly past me to push a bagel into the toaster.

“Hi.” My voice squeaks and I can feel myself flushing a very obvious shade of red. Both Gerard and Mikey notice this, casting me equal glances that silently ask “ _are you okay?_ ”

I quickly grab a box of cereal and move to get a bowl, dumping the rest of the Lucky Charms into the green plastic and drenching it in milk. With a spoonful of cereal in my mouth, I hope I can manage to not embarrass myself further. I watch only the cereal as Gerard waits for his food, stuffing a bite into his mouth before waving to his brother. “Wait,” Mikey stops him before he can take even a step. “Where are you going?”

With an exaggerated sigh and roll of his eyes, Gerard swallows his bite. “I told you, I have a meeting with the school in New York this morning to decide if I want to go to the University there.”

Oh. Right. This past year was Gerard’s last of high school. It didn’t really register since he skipped the graduation ceremony, but the sudden weighted feeling in my chest has me realizing that, in three months, Gerard is going to college. In New York. And I’ll be left with just Mikey to help me with the rest of this pregnancy…

“I’ll be back in a few hours.” Gerard smirks and moves past me, pausing only long enough to lay a single hand on my stomach and say, “I’ll see you guys later. Wish me luck.”

The surprising contact of his skin on mine sends a spark shivering up my spine and I blush again, looking down. I glare into my bowl, watching the marshmallow pieces floating around and half-heartedly trying to catch one with my spoon. It’s only a moment after the front door closes that Mikey sighs. “Okay, what’s up?”

I instantly look up, wide-eyed, to see him roll his eyes and chase his own cereal around his bowl. “What?”

“You were acting really weird,” Mikey explains. “What’s wrong with you?”

I shake my head, completely prepared to blurt out an unbelievable “ _nothing_ ” and avoid all further questions until he stops asking, but instead I find myself nearly yelling the truth. “I had a dream that Gerard gave me a handjob in the shower.” Almost as quickly, I raise my hand and literally slap it over my mouth.

Slowly, Mikey looks up at me, raising a single eyebrow in a mixture of surprise, confusion, and slight disgust. “Okay,  _ew_ …”

When he says nothing else, I lower my hand and narrow my eyes at the older boy. “That’s it?” I wonder warily. “You’re not going to chew me out for thinking about your brother in that way? Or kick me out?”

Mikey looks up at me again curiously. “Do you  _usually_  think about my brother in that way?”

The question catches me off guard and I hesitate, opening my mouth a few times to answer though nothing comes out. I should say no, Gerard is just a friend. But… what about when he kissed me to stop my panic attack? That didn’t feel like just friends.

Mikey chuckles, going back to his cereal. “Look, that pregnancy site said it’s normal to have sex dreams when you’re pregnant. It’s all the hormones or something. And it kind of makes sense that it was Gerard. I mean, you’ve been around him a lot. It’s kind of weird that it’s my brother, but…” Mikey pauses, shrugging in a noncommittal way. “Like I said, I think it’s normal.”

“Oh…” I set my cereal down on the counter, feeling kind of stupid for getting so worked up over something so unimportant. Instead, I smile towards Mikey. “I felt them.”

This catches his attention and he looks up, eyes bright. “Really?”

My grin widens and I nod. “Yeah.”

Mikey looks like a proud uncle, glancing down at my stomach and smiling fondly. After a moment, he drops his bowl into the sink and says, “Alright. I need to smoke. You coming?”

I shake my head. “I’m gonna get coffee and then probably take a shower.” I move around the island to the half-full coffee pot on the counter, but Mikey reaches it only a second before I do.

Jumping directly in front of me, he shakes his head and watches me incredulously. “You can’t have coffee,” He exclaims. “Frank, coffee is full of caffeine.” I nod slowly. I know this-- This is why I need coffee. Caffeine makes me happy. But Mikey is still watching me like I’ve just kicked his puppy. “Caffeine stunts your growth,” He states. “That’s probably why you’re short.” I frown at him and he sighs. “This is why you need a fucking babysitter. Dude, caffeine is bad for the babies.”

My frown deepens and I look longingly toward the coffee. “Then what the hell am I supposed to drink?”

Mikey shrugs helplessly. “I’ll have my mom get decaf when she goes shopping.”

I grimace, but groan in defeat. “Fine. No coffee.” I cross my arms begrudgingly and Mikey pats me on the head sympathetically before grabbing his cigarettes from the counter and heading out the back door.

As soon as the door is closed behind him, I’m up the stairs, shutting myself in Mikey’s room and moving as quickly as I can, throwing on a T-shirt and grabbing my shoes. I remember exactly what Donna said-- I’m to be watched closely at all times and was not to go outside alone. But feeling restless and anxious, despite my lack of morning coffee, I’m desperate to get out of the house, and without one of the Way brothers following in my step.

Outside, the June air hits me, the morning breeze already fading fast into the surrounding humid heat. I keep my head down, watching my Converse clad feet on the pavement. I’m not exactly sure where I plan to go until I look up only minutes later to see my familiar house across the street. Still being early, only a few reporters-- two cameras and three journalists-- await my arrival. Taking a deep breath, I take the first step forward, knowing I must face them eventually unless Donna wants to keep me locked inside for the next six months.

No one pays much attention at first, each one focused on another or on the house before them. I’m halfway up the sidewalk before I hear someone gasp and say, “That’s him!”

Involuntarily, I look up. It’s like a stampede, people gathering around me, cameras and microphones shoved into my face, and suddenly it feels like I’m suffocating. I swallow down the dry lump in my throat, my mind not seeming to grasp onto any one thing. They’re all shouting questions at me. “N-no.” I manage to stutter out. And at the single word, they all stop. There’s complete silence, all eyes on me.

Eventually, a girl in the crowd speaks. She pushes a voice recorder into my personal space and furrows her eyebrows. “Is it true what Dr. Webb is saying, Frank?”

I open my mouth again. This is my chance to tell them all they’ve got it wrong, that I’m not pregnant, that I’m not Frank-- Anything that will get them to leave me alone. But I can’t speak. I can’t form words or sentences or even coherent thoughts. “I…. umm…” I settle with letting out a shaky breath and pushing past the reporters. I can hear them behind me when I close the door in their face and fall back against it, trembling and on the verge of tears.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually the voices outside die down. In the silence, I hear more distant voices, muffled and quiet, though when I edge closer to the stairs, I realize they’re yelling. Taking a few steps, I strain to hear who’s arguing, making out first my mother’s voice and then my father’s.

“--our only son!” Mom yells. “You expect us to just abandon him!? He needs us, Franklin!”

I can image my Dad shaking his head. “No, Linda. He needs a doctor to figure out what the hell is wrong with him!”

“And this is your way of getting him that help?” Mom demands. The voices become quieter and I creep to the top of the stairs, peering through the crack in the door. My parents sit side by side on the end of their bed, looking defeated and sad. “Franklin, I know he needs help. He needs to go to a professional to figure out how this happened, but… kicking him out? Is that really the way to help him?”

My jaw drops. My heart seems to skip a beat and I forget how to breathe for a moment. They’re kicking me out?

“I can’t deal with this, Linda,” My father admits, shrugging. “That’s my final decision. Either he gets the abortion, or he’s out.”

My mother is silent for a long time, watching the man before her with hopeless eyes. I want her to stand up and slap that son of a bitch, to scream at him for suggesting it, to stand up for me, for her grandchildren. But in the end, she simply nods with tears in her eyes. “Alright.”

With shaking legs, I move the few feet to my own bedroom door. My ears ring in the silence, resonating at a deafening pitch what I just heard. They were giving up on me, on the twins, and they were giving me a choice.

Tears stain my cheeks as I sit for a few minutes on my bed. My hands tremble and I ball them into fists, trying to stop the quivering. Closing my eyes, I fall back on the mattress. It’s when I’m lying there, completely motionless, that I feel it again, same as before-- The small fluttering in my stomach. It’s the same place as the first time, and just as quick, but it makes my heart swell.

_How the hell did everything get so fucked up?_

Swallowing hard, I sit up and grab the duffle bag stuffed in the back of my closet. Shoving in a few T-shirts, I throw it over my shoulder and stand. In the hallway, I run, almost literally, into my parents. They look startled to see me, but I set both of them with a hard look.

“Frank…” My Dad starts. His voice is rough as though he’s been crying. He frowns. “Son, we need to talk to you.”

“Talk all you want,” I reply, my jaw tightening as well as my grasp on the duffle. “I’m fucking done.”

He seems to notice my bag for the first time, his brow furrowing even further. “Frank--”

I shake my head, taking an angry step closer to him and cutting his words off. “Don’t try to justify this,” I demand, glaring at the older man. “You’re making me choose between my home with you, or keeping my kids. And I’m choosing them.”

Dad grimaces. “They’re not kids, Frank,” He argues. “We don’t know what they are, and that’s what we want to figure out.” He looks at me with a rational expression, like he’s explaining a math equation and not talking about the little lives in my stomach. “There’s a nice scientist in Oregon who wants to--”

“No!” I shout. I don’t want to hear about some mad scientist in Oregon, regardless of how nice he may seem, who wants to poke and prod me. “I’m not going to any scientist or doctor to become an experiment! They’re  _babies_ , Dad, not some new strain of bacteria.”

“You don’t know that!” His face is suddenly red, scrunched up and nose flared. “You are a boy! You cannot be pregnant! Don’t you understand that!?”

I frown, glancing down at my stomach once again before meeting my father’s dark gaze. “I understand that I can feel them. They’re real and they’re mine and I don’t care how it happened. And anybody who doesn’t understand  _that_  can stay the hell away. We’re better off without you.”

I cast one last look at my mother as she watches the ground under her feet, her hand secured in my father’s. Stepping around the two of them, I stop. “Don’t try to contact us,” I tell them. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re dead to me.” And then I descend the stairs and sneak out through the kitchen door, avoiding the media still hounding the front drive, and leave my old life for the last time.


	40. For Tea

My legs feel weighted, full of lead and unwilling to move. My cheeks burn with the tears and the heat. I hate this. I hate all of this. I feel sick to my stomach and dizzy, but I push my legs on, forcing one step after another. I don’t have anywhere particular in mind.  _Away_ is the only word that echoes in my head. I just want to get away.

I feel the phone in my pocket buzz and pull it free. Mikey’s name flashes across the screen and I sigh-- He’s going to be pissed. He’ll start yelling at me, I left on his watch, and I can’t deal with that right now. I want a hug, not a lecture. I silence the device and slip it back into my pants.

A few blocks away, I find a park. A vast field of grass lies out on one side with a few benches and a playground across from it. There are a few people, some playing with dogs or kids while others keep themselves occupied with a book, but for the most part it’s empty. I claim a vacant bench that overlooks the playground and sit down, my eyes sweeping over the small children that run about, looking carefree and innocent. There’s a girl on the slide, wiggling and bouncing up and down before descending and racing around to do it again. Her brown pigtails blow back in the wind and I begin wondering about the babies in my stomach. I could have a girl-- I could have  _two_ girls. Or two boys. As I watch the kids on the playground, my eyes scanning over each one, I imagine what they’ll look like, how they’ll act. Perhaps I’ll have two boys; They’ll play together on the swings like the group I see now. Or two precious little girls, racing around and squealing.

I jump when the seat to my left is suddenly taken, a young woman sitting down next to me. She pulls a stroller up and smiles at the baby inside, pinching it’s cheeks and plugging a pacifier in it’s mouth. She glances up at me, catching me watching. I look away instantly, hoping not to be recognized. I can only imagine the hell that would break loose if someone saw me and realized I was the pregnant boy that’s been broadcasted on the news for the past week. But the woman simply smiles warmly and nods to the children on the playground. “Which one’s yours?”

“Oh…” I grimace, shaking my head. I realize I must look like some sort of predator just watching all of these kids. “Um… They’re actually not born yet…” And that makes me sound even creepier.

But the woman doesn’t seem to notice. She nods again, squinting her dark eyes against the sunlight pounding down on us. “They?”

I grin proudly. “Twins.”

She fidgets with some stuff on the stroller, casting me a sideways smile. “Congrats.” She sticks out a hand between us. “I’m Eva. This here is Amelie.” I shake her hand and wave to the baby, who initially was all smiles, now begins crying. I flinch away, instantly scooting away on the wooden bench and away from the blaring sound. Did I do something wrong? All I did was wave! Apparently Eva can see all of this playing across my face because she chuckles as she pulls the baby free from the stroller. “Don’t worry, it was nothing you did,” She informs me. “Amelie doesn’t really like strangers.” She props the baby up on her shoulder, cooing and rubbing a hand over the child’s back. The cries subside, replaced with sniffles, and then silence.

Amelie watches me with huge, brown eyes. Eva lets out another small laugh, shaking some auburn hair from where it falls over her face. “Don’t look so scared, she won’t hurt you.”

I shift again and shrug, not really convinced. Seeing a baby in this close of proximity is kind of new to me; The closest I’ve ever been to a small child was when my cousin Tiffany had her kid when I was seven-- My mother sat me down on the couch and gently placed the baby in my arms. I was too scared to even move, but it started crying regardless and threw up on me. Being this close to a real, breathing baby is terrifying, even more so now that I’m expecting two of my own. She looks so fragile, tiny and breakable, and I have a sudden sick feeling in my stomach.

I swallow down the feeling and turn my gaze back to Eva. She’s already watching me with squinted eyes, scrutinizing me in a way that makes me bite my lip. “You look really familiar,” She states. “What did you say your name was?”

I freeze, shifting uncomfortably. “I didn’t,” I mumble, hoping that if I talk quietly enough, she won’t be able to make out my words and I can make an escape before she recognizes me. But I can see the moment realization lights up her features, her dark eyes glimmering and widening.

“You’re the kid from TV,” She levels a stubby finger in my direction. “The one they’re all saying is pregnant.”

Almost an involuntarily action, I’m shaking my head, stumbling to my feet. “No, sorry,” I mutter. “Wrong person.” I turn to leave-- My heart is pounding in my ears, eyes surveying the park for an escape, to see if I’ve been recognized by anyone else-- but Eva’s hand darts out just in time to wrap loosely around my wrist.

“Wait,” She calls. “I didn’t mean to scare you off, I was just curious--”

I spin on my heels to face her again, rage suddenly rolling through my veins like a venom. I narrow my eyes, my glare like a shock enough to make her release me. It’s not just her recognition of me, but the fact that everyone seems to recognize me now. It’s the reporters on my lawn and the people that were supposed to be my parents abandoning me. It’s everything, swelling up and spilling over like a bottle of soda that they just won’t stop shaking. “That’s the problem,” I spit. “Everybody’s so fucking curious. Everybody wants to just shove their cameras in my face and their questions down my throat, but you don’t get it. I’m  _sixteen_. You wanna know the truth, lady? The truth is that the guy I loved acts like I never existed. My parents can’t even fucking look at me. Maybe I’m pregnant, and maybe I’m not. But it’s none of your damn business just because you’re  _curious_. My life isn’t for your viewing pleasure.”

Her mouth hangs open, the baby in her arms wriggling and squirming, but she doesn’t seem to notice. She simply watches me, speechless, as I grab my duffel and storm away. I cast nervous glances in each direction to be sure no one else was witness to my little explosion, but nobody is watching us. I lower my head and quicken my pace, suddenly overwhelmed by the pressure to just get away from here. I want to be somewhere no one will know me, or someone else completely, with a different face and a different name. I want to be anyone else but me.

I want to be  _normal_.

Street after street, I pass by houses and cars and kids enjoying Summer vacation. I’m not focused on where I’m headed, not interested in going back to Mikey’s, but not nearly stupid enough to go anywhere else. Zacky’s house comes to mind, but with a frown and a painful ache in my chest, I quickly dismiss that option. I could go see Josh, but Mikey has probably already called him to throw together a search party for me.

I sigh just a car horn blares and brakes squeal. I look up quickly, my body tensing when I see I’m in the middle of a side-road, a bright red car only feet away. A girl on the passengers side leans out and I think I vaguely recognize her from school. “Watch where you’re going, fuckface!” My frown deepens and I’m tempted to flip her the bird, but her face changes immediately and the girl is grinning. “Hey wait, you’re Frank, right?”

I swallow hard and look down again, avoiding her gaze and her question as I keep walking. I hear a few more shouts behind me, accompanied by a car door slamming and feet approaching. I internally groan as blonde flashes to my left and the girl appears in front of me, her bright green eyes glimmering in the sun. I’m forced to stop walking and look up at her.

“Dude, seriously. Are you okay?” Her pink lips are turned down in a concerned frown as she puts her hands on her hips. “You just walked in front of Stacie’s car and like… You’re pregnant, right? You could have been really hurt.”

My eyes automatically narrow at the mention of pregnancy, but my glower softens nearly just as quick. The genuine concern on her face makes me hesitate. So instead of yelling at her, I settle with a small shrug. “I’m fine.”

The girl slowly nods, clearly not convinced as she eyes my duffel. I subtly shift it so it’s behind my legs. “What’s with the bag?” She wonders.

“There’s a body in it,” I reply easily. “Trying to get it home and in the freezer before it starts to stink.”

She rolls her eyes and her hip juts out just a little to the left. “Seriously. Are you like… Running away?” I don’t answer this time, setting her with an even glare trying to convey that it’s none of her business without using words. She doesn’t seem to get the point and presses on. She leans in a little closer, her voice lowering. “Frank, if you’re running away, that’s all you-- None of my business. But what about them?” Her eyes flash down to my stomach and I instantly stiffen, one hand coming up to wrap around myself protectively. “Do you need anything? Clothes or shit, like for either of you? My sister was pregnant last year and she looked like a balloon, there’s no way you’re gonna be fitting in those pants for long.” I flinch away from her words, kind of offended. I know that carrying two kids in my stomach will make me fat, but hearing it put so crudely makes my stomach drop. Even more than that, though, is the look on the girl’s face. She’s watching me with expectant eyes, offering me something more than just clothes. A friend. The girl shifts on her feet again and glances back at the car now parked on the curb, two other girls watching me from inside. “Look, we’re going to the mall anyway. Why don’t you come along-- We can get you some new clothes, maybe some stuff for the kid?” She smiles softly and I find myself warming with the gesture. I nod along and try my best to return the smile.

The girl grins now and bounces up and down on the balls of her feet. “Awesome!” She chirps, and takes my arm in hers, leading me back to the car that almost hit me five minutes ago.

I learn that the girl’s name is Herron. We had a few classes together last year, with her two friends, Stacie and Amanda. The girl’s ask me a few questions on the drive to the mall, almost half an hour away, but I’m vague with the answers I give.

“What happened between you and Zacky? He’s the dad right?”  _We broke up._

“Do you know what you’re having? Boy or girl?”  _Shrug._

“How did it happen? You know, like being a boy-- How’d you get knocked up?”  _Sex. Dick into butt. Open a book every once and awhile, it’s really not that complicated._

Aside from the probing, it’s actually kind of nice to be around someone new. Around Gerard and Mikey, it’s constantly talk about avoiding Dr. Webb and reporters. They treat me like I’m a prisoner half of the time-- I can’t leave the house unless I’m going to the backyard with them to smoke, they’re always doing things for me, like I can’t do anything myself anymore. Around Herron and her friends, sure I’m the center of attention and assaulted with questions, but it’s different somehow. I guess I accept their questions because, even though I’m a freak, they’re trying to help. Not by sending me away to a scientist or shipped off to a government lab, but by simply taking me shopping.

The mall is unfortunately pretty busy, being early afternoon by this point. Groups and pairs wander around to kill time before movies start, others bustling out of the theater and wasting time before heading out. Some are shopping different stores, moving from one to the next fast or slow, or just meandering in the walkways between.

I leave my duffel in Stacie’s car after she gives me a look that pointedly says that lugging it around will draw unwanted attention to myself. Then she takes me by one arm, Herron claiming my other, and leads me into the first store.

I try my best to keep hidden within the racks of clothing, avoiding workers and other shoppers rather stealthily. But when a older couple sees me and shuffles by, quietly pointing a finger and smiling, I ask to leave.

“But we haven’t even bought anything,” Herron pouts, pulling out a pink flowered shirt and holding it up to me. “This is cute.”

I groan and push it away, glancing around and leaning closer to her. “Seriously, Herron,” I try again. “I think this was a bad idea. Look, I can just grab my bag from the car and head out, okay?”

Herron sighs and shakes her head, ruffling through a few more T-shirts. “You need clothes, right?” She asks. “And so does baby.” She looks up at me and cocks her hip to one side. “Do you know if it’s a boy or girl yet?”

I hesitate again, biting down on my lip and shuffling my feet on the dark blue carpet underneath. After a long moment, I sigh and shrug. “No, I don’t know what they are.”

Herron’s eyes light up and she tilts her head, looking amazed. “They?”  _Oh, shit…_  “They? Like--” Her sentence trails off and I sigh again.

“Yes,” I mumble, almost inaudibly. “Yes, alright? I’m having twins. Are you happy now?”

And she looks like she is. Her eyes are alight with enticement and she grins, glancing around the store. “Fine,” She says. “We’ll get you a fitting room and the girls and I will bring you some stuff to try on, okay?”

The thought of hiding in a fitting room seems like the most appealing option right now and I nod eagerly. I let Herron lead me back to a vacant fitting room, pushing me inside and closing the door, promising to be back in a few minutes with some clothes. I sit down on the bench and sigh, catching my reflection in the full-length mirror plastered onto the wall. Slowly, I stand up. I run a hand across my stomach, the bump protruding a little so I have to follow the slight curve with my palm.

A few minutes later, a knock on the door sounds and I jump up, throwing the door open and stepping out. I reach out, prepared to take whatever clothes Herron has picked out for me, but something flashes and my vision gets dotty all of a sudden. It takes a second to clear, but another flash flickers in that moment. I put a hand up, blinking a few times. I take a step back, but the fitting room door has swung shut behind me and my back hits the wooden surface instead. People are shouting, pressing too close to me for comfort. My heart is pounding in my ears, my blood running cold.

“Frank, when are the babies due?” Someone demands, shoving a voice recorder in my face, but another pushes through a small space. “Is the father involved in the pregnancy?”

I can’t breathe, watching helplessly as the press surround me like a blanket, wrapping tight around my face and suffocating me. I couldn’t form words if I tried, but I feel like I’m about to throw up.

The thought of throwing up gives me an idea, and I push against the people crowding around me, shoving a few while others step aside willingly. I trip over someone’s shoe and step on another’s but I just keep pushing. I need to get out, I have to get away. They swarm like bees to me, following my every step, but I take off running as soon as I have the chance, only glancing back enough to see Herron and her friends near the far wall, twirling her hair as she grins at the reporter who jams a camera into her face.

I want to scream and pull her hair, kick her right in the fucking teeth for everything she told me-- She did this, she sold me out to the press, there’s no doubt in my mind. But I can’t stop, I have to keep running. I feel the crowd behind me, still yelling my name and shouting unheard questions. When I see the sign for the bathroom, I feel almost relieved. Inside the restroom, I slam the door shut, thankful I’m alone, and slide my back down the smooth gray surface.

My entire body is shaking, my breathing, my voice, my hands when I pull free my cell phone and dial Mikey’s number.

He answers on the second ring with a panicked voice. “Frank!? Fucking hell, Frankie, I swear to God--”

“Mikey,” I gasp, interrupting his threat and trying to calm the sobs that are shaking my words. “Mikey, I’m so sorry. I need you. I can’t get out, they’re blocking the door and there’s no windows or anything.”

“Whoa Frank, calm down, okay?” Although Mikey’s voice sounds far from calm, the words soothe me a little. “Frankie, you have to tell me where you are. Where are you?”

Another shaky breath. “The bathroom,” I manage to gasp out. The feeling around me is so familiar, my hands trembling and my breathing uneven. Last time this happened was in a bathroom, too, but Gerard was there. He was able to calm me down. Now, I was completely alone and I was terrified. “The bathroom at the mall in Summit. There’s reporters outside and I can’t get out.”

“We’re on our way, Frank,” He promises. I can hear him snapping directions at someone in the background, but my focus is faltering. I feel dizzy. “Frank! Stay on the phone with me, okay? We’re gonna be there soon.”

I don’t know how much time passes, whether a minute or an hour, a day even, but Mikey keeps talking. I’m not even sure what he says, just saying calming things and trying to reassure me that they’re close. I sit on the floor crying, tears drying on my cheeks, replaced just as quickly with fresh ones. The buzz of reporters outside hums softly, like the electricity running through the walls, ready to pounce and shock and tear apart.

Eventually, Mikey stops talking to me. He tells me that they’re outside, trying to find a way to distract the reporters, but then he starts yelling in the background. “Josh, what the hell are you doing!? Stop fucking with that, you’re gonna break-- Oh… Okay, go get security. No, that’s really not necessary-- Okay, you broke that, too. I think that’s enough. Just go get help.”

I hear voices outside the door, people shouting and feet scuffing against the tile floor. Then there’s a knock and Gerard’s voice echoes through the wall, reverberating like a ton of bricks against my skull. “Frank? Open the door, Frankie, it’s me.”

I stumble as I wrap a hand around the doorknob and drag myself to my feet, pulling the door open. Gerard is standing right outside the door, Mikey a few feet behind him, glancing around the otherwise empty hall. Almost instantly, Gerard’s hands are on my shoulders, holding me up. “Frank?” He asks, sounding panicked. “Hey, are you okay?” His face falters, going out of focus and zooming back in at nauseating speed. “Shit!” I stagger, my feet refusing to cooperate and tripping over nothing, though Gerard steadies me.

“I don’t feel so good,” I manage to mumble. Everything is so fuzzy, like a dream almost. The edges of my vision are blurred, little bursts of light flashing across and closing in, dragging me into blackness. I hear Gerard shout my name one more time, but I can’t reply. I can’t make my body work. It’s like everything is just shutting down, it’s all going away, and I fall into a state of unconsciousness.

•••

People are yelling. I hear voices all around me like hammers, each one hitting another nail into my head, pain shooting through my skull. They fall together, stringing into confusing sentences I can’t seem to understand, not one seeming familiar or distinct.

“--wanna hold him hostage? I really don’t think that he’ll agree to that.”

“Well then what do you suggest? Sending him back home and wishing him good luck? Mikey, we have to keep him here. We have to make sure he stays inside where we can watch him. And we  _will_ watch him this time.”

“Oh cut the shit, Gerard. You’re acting like it’s my fucking fault he bailed.”

“ _You_  were supposed to be watching him.”

“He’s not a prisoner! He should be allowed to leave the house, he should be able to go out and do something so simple as shopping without having to worry about press showing up with cameras sending him into another panic attack!”

“But he can’t…” The voice is softer this time, no longer yelling. It sounds almost desperate. “Mikey, he’s not normal. They’re not going to leave him alone until they’re happy, and I don’t think Frank is going to last that long.”

Silence fills the room and somehow it seems more deafening than the yelling. It takes a few long moments, but eventually I gather the strength to groan, lifting a hand to my head, and mutter a near silent, “Mother _fuck_.”

I can hear as the others move closer, Gerard and Mikey from what I’ve gathered from the arguing, and someone helps me to a sitting position. I lean back against someone’s chest, not knowing or caring whose, and groan again. “Why does it feel like one of you took a brick to my head?”

Mikey chuckles softly and I open my eyes to see him sitting on the floor in front of me. Glancing around the room, I see I’m in his bedroom, Gerard behind me, supporting most of my weight. I shift so I’m leaning against the headboard, facing them both. “You had a panic attack at the mall. You probably didn’t get enough oxygen to your brain and ended up passing out,” Mikey explains. His voice is lowered and my headache is grateful. “We snuck you out the back exit and brought you home.”

“How did you manage to get the press away?” I wonder.

Mikey smirks, shaking his head. “Josh broke a tampon dispenser in the women’s room and then clogged a toilet. Security made them leave so they could clean up.”

I laugh softly. “I’ll have to remember to thank Josh later.” I glance back at Gerard and quirk an eyebrow at him. “What about you? I thought you had some meeting in New York.”

He nods easily. “I left,” He states. My eyes widen measurably, but Gerard just chuckles. “Mikey called me, freaking out because you disappeared. I had to come back and look for you. Look, the meeting was a bust anyway. I don’t think New York is the place for me.” I’m far from convinced, but he offers me a small, reassuring smile.

Mikey speaks up from his place on the ground, shifting so he’s sitting cross-legged on the carpet. “Do you remember what happened?”

I hesitate, glancing down at my hands and nodding. “Yeah, I remember. I met this chick and she was really nice. She said she would help me find new clothes and stuff since I wasn’t fitting in much anymore and my duffel--” The realization that my duffel bag, along with the few clothes I still had, were still in Stacie’s car hits me and I groan again. “ _Shit_. I lost my duffel bag.”

Gerard’s eyes narrow as he studies me. “Duffel?” He wonders. “Why did you have a duffel?”

I look down again, avoiding both brothers’ gaze as I speak. “Umm… I went home. When I left here this morning, I went back to my house. I saw my parents.” I take a deep breath and shrug, looking up finally. “They told me I have to abort or leave. So I left.”

Mikey rests a hand on mine and frowns. “I’m sorry, Frankie.”

Gerard doesn’t seem so apologetic though. His jaw clenches and he shakes his head. “Fucking assholes.”

I shrug again, not wanting to dwell on it and end up crying again. Instead, I offer a fake laugh. “Well, I guess now I’m not only sixteen and a pregnant boy, I’m also homeless. Doctorless. Parentless.” Another short laugh. I run a hand through my hair. “Not exactly how I planned to end my Sophomore year.”

“Well…” I look up to see Gerard looking thoughtful, glancing between Mikey and I. “You know you can stay here as long as you want. And as for the doctor thing, I’ve been thinking, Mikey and I have an old friend who’s in his second year of college for Anatomy. Maybe he could--”

“No,” Mikey snaps. His jaw is clenched and he’s glaring at his brother. “No fucking way in hell. No, no, no, no. No. And in case you missed that;  _NO_.”

Gerard, unfazed by the death-glare he’s being shot, just sighs. “Mikey, this has nothing to do with your--”

“ _Shh_!” Mikey’s glare deepens.

Gerard rolls his eyes. “Mikey, this isn’t about  _you_. This is about Frank. And I think he can help. Or at the very least, he’s gotta know somebody who can.”

Mikey and Gerard stare at each other for a long time, each one silently fighting the other while I stare on in confusion. “Umm…” I finally speak up. “Who are we talking about?”

Gerard is the first to look away from the silent battle, meeting my gaze again. “His name’s Ray,” He says and smirks over at his brother. “And he’ll be here tomorrow morning.”

**_[A/N: So I'm not exactly pleased with this chapter, but it's an update and it's longer, so accept it. Also, RAY! WOO!!! :D -MyChemicalRachel]_ **


	41. 41.

Mikey’s still asleep on the bed next to me when the sunlight pouring in through the window drags me into consciousness. His head is buried under the blankets he hoards, tangled like a cocoon around him and lost in the mass of covers, leaving me with a single sheet that drapes over my body. I roll my eyes and shove him over to his own side of the bed. His only reaction is an unconscious grumble as he pulls the blankets even closer.

Glancing at the alarm clock, I realize it’s just past nine. It seems like as good of time as any to wake up and I throw the sheet over onto Mikey’s collection, pushing myself to my feet and wobbling unsteadily for a second. My hands immediately come to rest on my stomach, a habit I’ve picked up rather quickly in the past few weeks, and suddenly I wish I could feel them. More than the bump that protrudes in front of me. I want to feel them moving around, wiggling and growing. I freeze, refusing to move a muscle or even breathe, but nothing happens and I sigh heavily before heading downstairs, somewhat dejectedly.

The house is practically vacant, which doesn’t really surprise me. After a moment’s thought, I remember today is a Tuesday; both of the Way parents have work and, since Mikey’s still passed out upstairs, the only other person home is Gerard. As I wander into the kitchen, I find him.

Gerard is sitting at the table, leaning back with a mug of what I suppose is coffee pressed to his lips. He’s facing me, another person across the table from him; With their back turned, all I see is a mess of tangled brown hair. But when Gerard’s eyes land on me, he smiles and sits up straighter, causing the other person to face me as well.

“Hey Frankie,” Gerard says, setting down his mug and gesturing lazily to his company. “This is Ray.”

The stranger is watching me with a soft hazel gaze, a small smile on his full lips. He looks nice, but I’m cautious, folding my arms across my chest and wishing I had grabbed a shirt. I feel self conscious suddenly. “Hi,” I mumble in response, not even bothering to fake a smile.

Ray studies me for a minute longer before narrowing his eyes and stating, “I thought you’d be taller.”

Slightly offended, I raise an eyebrow and look at Gerard. “He’s an ass,” I tell him. “Send him home.”

But Gerard just laughs and shakes his head. “Can’t,” He replies. “Unless of course you would prefer to go back to Dr. Webb.”

Now it’s my turn to narrow my eyes, but eventually I sigh and extend a hand to Ray. He shakes it absently, glancing behind me before meeting my gaze again. “So where’s Mikey?” His voice sounds mostly nonchalant, but the look in his eyes is one I can’t place; Anxious, verging on excitement, maybe?

I shrug and slide into the seat next to Gerard. “He was still asleep when I came down.”

Ray inhales and nods curtly, looking kind of relieved, then his focus is back on me. I reach across the small table and take Gerard’s mug, only just getting it to my lips when he reaches out and snatches it back. “Caffeine,” He reminds me, taking it from my hands and leaving me pouting.

Ray waves a hand at us dismissively, taking a drink from his own mug. “You can still have caffeine,” He informs me. “In moderation. That whole “ _it’s bad for pregnancy thing_ ” is kind of bullshit. Just don’t overdo it.”

Grinning and sitting up straighter, I grab the drink back. I decide I like Ray. Gerard watches me in amusement as I down half of the mug in one go, barely tasting it enough to realize it’s black, but not really caring.

When I’m satisfied, I sigh in content and set down the empty mug, which Gerard promptly retrieves and goes back to refill. I lean back and look at Ray. I take in his stocky appearance, the broad shoulders and soft expression, the Metallica shirt and blue jeans. I’m not exactly keen on trusting anyone, not after my publicity stunt yesterday that landed me locked in a mall bathroom with reporters harassing me, but Mikey and Gerard trust him, and I trust them. So I sigh and bite down on my lip. “So you’re my new doctor?”

Ray chuckles and makes a noncommittal noise. “I guess,” He agrees. “Gerard didn’t really tell me a lot about the situation.”

I glance curiously at Gerard, feeling self conscious again, and then back to Ray. “What all did he tell you?”

Ray shrugs and shifts in his seat. “You’re pregnant. Twins. Your doctor sold you out for fifteen minutes of fame-- he sounds like a fucking asshole, by the way.” I smirk, starting to like Ray more and more by the second. He smiles for a second, too, but his expression is one of awe. “You really don’t know how it happened? Like, you’re not androgynous or anything like that, right?”

The term makes me pause, shaking my head and looking to Gerard for help. What the hell does  _androgynous_  mean?

“He’s asking if you’re a hermaphrodite,” Gerard clarifies.

“Oh,” I feel embarrassed suddenly, and not just because they’re questioning my gender. I sink back into my chair and feel a blush heat up my cheeks. “No, I’m not. I mean…” I look back to Gerard and raise both hands in question, willing him to just answer for me. I feel like a little kid again, going to the doctor and making my mom tell them what’s wrong with me. But I feel helpless. Even if I were, how would I be able to tell? So I frown again. “I mean, I’m not, right?”

Gerard looks nervous and shakes his head slowly. “No. I don’t think so.” He looks to Ray now, just as confused and concerned as I am. “Is he?”

Ray just chuckles and glances between the two of us. “Honestly, if you guys haven’t noticed anything weird down there by now, then no. Probably not. But I can get some blood sent to a friend in Akron to test it for anything unusual.”

“Unusual?” I prompt with a dry laugh. “Like more unusual than the fact that I’m a pregnant boy?”

Ray offers me a sad smile. “Well, maybe the bloodwork can tell us how exactly that happened.”

At that moment, before I have a chance to reply, Mikey staggers sleepily into the room. He’s wearing a Tshirt and boxers that seem to cling by mere threads to his wiry frame, and he yawns, rubbing his eyes and making a beeline for the coffee pot. He doesn’t seem to take notice of us, but Ray immediately perks up, his eyes alight. “Mikey?”

The simple spoken word makes the younger Way brother freeze. I’m afraid the stream of coffee will overflow the mug he has clamped between white knuckles, but just as the liquid reaches the brim, Mikey slowly sets the pot back in it’s place, turning to face us. He swallows visibly hard and his mouth falls into a straight line. The infamous Mikey Way pokerface. “Ray.”

Ray grins and stands up. He looks like he wants to tackle Mikey in a bear hug, but he hesitates and his smile falters slightly. “It’s been awhile,” He comments, to which Mikey nods once.

“Yeah,” He agrees, and then looks around nervously. He moves to the table to join us, looking distressed when he realizes the only empty seat is between his brother and Ray. He frowns, but takes the chair. The legs make a shrill squeak against the tile floor and I cringe at the deafening noise in the suddenly tense silence. I glance at Gerard, who merely watches the others with an amused smirk, hidden nicely behind his mug.

“Family fucking reunion,” He mutters dryly. “It’s been… what? Six months since you two have seen each other?”

Ray looks embarrassed, his cheeks red, and he keeps glancing at Mikey from the corner of his eye. Mikey on the other hand just looks like someone shoved a cactus up his ass as he shifts uncomfortably on the chair, avoiding everyone’s gaze.

I clear my throat awkwardly, leaning forward to rest my elbows on the table. Fidgeting a little, I nudge Gerard. “Can we order pizza?”

He sends me a sideways smirk. “Dude, it’s not even ten.”

I jut out my lower lip and do my best puppydog eyes. As if for emphasis, the sound of my stomach growling rather obnoxiously breaks the silence. Gerard laughs and sets down his near empty mug. “Okay, fine. But they don’t open until 10:30.” I bounce up happily, but Gerard continues with a raised eyebrow. “And there’s no way in hell you’re going. Not after what happened yesterday.”

I frown again, but Mikey is already pushing his chair back and standing up. “I’ll go!” He offers, with way too much excitement in his voice than necessary.

“I’ll come with you,” Ray offers, standing as well. He looks nervous, glancing at Mikey with an expectant expression.

Mikey looks like he wants to argue, or lock himself in the basement until the world ends, but he bites his lip and settles with a nod. He downs his coffee in one go and hastily leaves the room. Ray looks after him for a long moment before sighing heavily and letting his head drop forward. “Fuck…” Then he offers a small wave in our direction and mumbles, “We’ll be back soon, I guess…”

“Good luck!” Gerard calls after him with a chuckle, but Ray just makes a face and waves him off. When he’s gone, Gerard finishes off his coffee and pushes back, standing to put his empty mug in the sink. He’s quiet as he returns to sit down next to me.

I look at him, expecting some sort of explanation, but when he says nothing, I make a gesture with my hands. “Okay, what the hell was that?” I wonder.

Gerard frowns, leaning back in the chair. “What?”

I let out a half-hearted chuckle. “Am I the only one who felt the complete awkwardness when Mikey came in here?”

“Oh,” Gerard sighs, looking down at the table. He traces a pattern on the wooden surface. “That.”

When he offers nothing more, I nod. “Yeah.  _That_. Come on, what the hell was that? I mean, there was so much unresolved sexual tension, I thought we were in the middle of a chick flick.”

Gerard finally looks up at me, pursing his lips and shrugging. “I don’t know,” He lies, and it’s so obvious that my frown simply deepens. Gerard sighs again and leans closer to me, lowering his voice though we’re alone in the room. “Just… Ray kind of has a thing for Mikey. And Mikey is…. complicated.”

I nod understandingly. Mikey’s my best friend-- I know exactly how complicated he can be sometimes. I decide I’m done talking about Mikey’s relationship status and sit up straighter again, nudging Gerard’s shoulder. “Play with me,” I demand.

Gerard laughs and rolls his eyes. “Play with you? Frank, how old are you?”

“Six,” I retort. “Now play with me, motherfucker.”

I jump up, grabbing his hand and dragging him from the kitchen upstairs.

Nearly an hour passes before Mikey and Ray return. When they come into Gerard’s room bearing two large cheese pizzas, I’m sitting in the middle of Gerard’s bed yelling obscenities at the playstation while Gerard sits a few feet away on the floor with a sketchbook cradled in his lap.

Mikey looks flustered with a bright pink tinging his cheeks, his brown hair messier than I remember it being when they left, but I say nothing. Ray looks content as he takes a seat across from Gerard.

I clamber onto the floor to join them, immediately grabbing a slice and digging in. I make a face at Mikey. “It’s cold,” I inform him. “What took you guys so long?”

Mikey looks up at me with wide eyes, his glasses falling to the end of his nose. “Long line,” He says.

I narrow my eyes at him-- A long line at the pizza place at ten in the morning?-- but take another bite, not bothering to justify his lie with an answer. Gerard glances up at me for only a split second, smirks, and looks back down to his journal, scribbling away.

I lean in closer, but he shifts his book away. I squint at him, swallowing the food and wiping a hand across my mouth. “You’ve been drawing for like the past hour. What is it?”

Gerard looks up at me and shrugs a little. “It’s not done,” He says.

“And?” I retort. “I wanna see. Can I see it?” I jut out my lip in another pout. “Please?”

Gerard meets my gaze again and, looking meek, turns the journal toward me. I’m surprised when I see the unfinished sketch is of none other than myself. Blankets tangle around my waist, my stomach sticking out in a way that’s obvious there’s two babies underneath. There’s a playstation controller in my hands and my mouth is open as I yell at the television. There’s a quote bubble above me, but nothing has been written in yet.

I look back up at Gerard, who is watching me curiously. “Me?”

Gerard just nods.

My brow creases and I shake my head sadly. “Why?” I wonder. “Why’d you draw me?”

He offers me a shrug, but I can tell it’s just a nervous gesture. “You were interesting to watch,” He muses with a smile. “You were so intent on your game, I guess I couldn’t help myself. You’re fun to draw. Your jaw is strong,” He explains, running a finger along the pencil on paper before looking up and making the same motion on me, his fingertips ghosting over my skin. Goosebumps prick on my flesh and I fight the shiver that arises at his touch. “But it’s like, in a delicate way, you know? If that makes any sense.”

I swallow hard, my mind suddenly going blank. I can’t form words. I only manage a slow nod. I’m kind of awestruck-- No one has ever drawn me before and it’s insane that he drew me so intricately. It’s not even finished, and yet it’s absolutely fucking amazing.

The pizza in my hand is completely forgotten at this point. The only thing I feel is the intensity of his gaze, his deep hazel eyes connected with mine, and the burning heat of his fingers on my jaw. But then the moment is over and Gerard clears his throat, looking down at his lap. It doesn’t occur to me until then just how close he was. I scoot away an inch or so and take another bite of my pizza. Somehow, the food does nothing to fill the the emptiness in my stomach this time.


	42. F/O/R/T/Y/T/W/O

I stand awkwardly in the hall, clutching a pillow to my chest. I mostly stole it from Mikey out of spite, not that I’ll actually need it if I ever get the courage to knock. But staring down the closed bedroom door is making my stomach twist for some reason. After a few long minutes, I sigh and lift one fisted hand to gently rap on the door. It swings open only a second later.

It’s just past midnight and I hope I haven’t woken him up. I should have just claimed the couch. With the help of a single desk light on Gerard’s desk, I see only outlines of his face. He doesn’t look like he was sleeping. Still, I frown, biting down on my lip. “Ray passed out on the bed with Mikey,” I admit in a soft voice. “Can I…” I trail off, feeling kind of awkward again for asking this. “Can I sleep in here?”

A small smile graces Gerard’s lips and he nods, moving to allow me into the room. I drop the pillow onto the tangled sheets, noting the sketchbook on Gerard’s desk. It’s open again to the page with me. This time, though, the drawing is more detailed, working it’s way into a finished piece. And this time, I’m not alone on the bed. Just behind me, another figure has been added. There’s not much detail on him, though it’s obvious it’s a boy. He’s simply watching the back of my head with a content smile, a single hand outstretched as if to grab my back, but his fingers are just a bit too far away.

Confused, I turn back to Gerard. He’s watching me with an unreadable expression already, fidgeting on his feet. “Who is that?” I wonder.

“No one,” He mutters.

I let out a soft chuckle and glance back at the drawing, just as Gerard steps forward to close it. “Come on, it’s obviously someone.” I nudge Gerard’s shoulder and smile, asking again. “Who is it?”

Gerard looks up at me, running his tongue along his lower lip and offering a noncommittal shrug. “Nobody,” He replies. When I keep my gaze steady on his, Gerard sighs and averts his own eyes, suddenly very interested on the carpet. “It was me,” He admits. “It was stupid, I just wanted to draw more, so I added myself.” He tosses the sketchbook onto the desk and shrugs again.

I don’t realize at first that I’m smiling, but I can’t help it. Knowing that Gerard drew himself into the picture with me makes my chest flutter. I bite down on my lip and clear my throat. “Umm… I’m gonna go to bed. You can stay up and draw if you want.”

Gerard only meets my eyes for a second before nodding. “Yeah. If the light doesn’t bother you?”

I shake my head and nudge him again, unsure of what else to do. “Night, Gee.”

I curl up on my side on the mattress, burying myself under a cocoon of blankets. It’s silent for a few minutes and I’m just drifting into unconsciousness when the light flicks off and the bed shifts. Gerard lifts the covers and suddenly I feel his body heat around me. In a half-asleep haze, I find myself turning over to face him, my fingers brushing against the hem of his shirt and moving closer. I feel the faint sensation of a few fingers brushing through my hair and Gerard whispers, “Night, Frankie,” but I’m already fast asleep by then.

When I first wake up, I don’t remember where I am. I can’t seem to comprehend the heat of another body next to me, the feeling of an arm draped across my waist, a hand resting on my stomach. It takes a long moment to remember that I’m not in Mikey’s bed, but Gerard’s. And only a second after that, I realize it must be Gerard’s body curled around mine. His face is nuzzled into neck, even breaths sending chills down my spine. I can’t describe the warm feeling that knots in my stomach, unraveling and streaming like pulled yarn all the way to the tips of my fingers and toes, though I know it has nothing to do with the temperature.

I simply lay there for a minute, reveling in the sensation. It’s serene and peaceful and then just as quickly, it’s not important because my bladder is protesting. I try to wriggle free from Gerard’s grasp, but fail and end up turned around to face him just as his eyes flutter open. His arm is still around me, resting on my lower back this time, and I’m suddenly aware of just how close he he actually is.

I choose to ignore the close proximity, the way his hair falls over one tired eye as he runs his tongue across his lower lip. I know I should just tell him that I have to pee, jump up, and race to the bathroom before I piss myself, but I can only stare at him. When words do finally come, they’re not at all what I had intended. “You don’t steal the blankets,” I state. “Mikey always steals the blankets. And he’s a bed hog.”

A small smile falls on Gerard’s lips. I’m only vaguely aware of the fact that he’s making no move to retrieve his arm or shift away. “You’re really beautiful when you first wake up.” Almost immediately, Gerard’s smile disappears as he seems to realize his words. I assume I’m not the only one who can’t control their diction this early in the morning. I can feel the blush heat up my cheeks, making no move to cover it up. Instead, I find amusement in the way Gerard takes a breath and shakes his head, his own face reddening. “I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have said that.”

I smirk, scrutinizing Gerard. He’s actually pretty gorgeous himself. His hazel eyes bore into mine. I can physically feel the acceleration of his heart in his chest. After a second of silence, he speaks again. His voice is low, a mere whisper in the quiet room. “You’re beautiful all the time,” He admits. His hand ghosts up my side to my face. With just his fingertips, he traces the contour of my jaw. Those familiar sparks ignite deep in my skin, flashing and sending waves of heat through me when his touch reaches my parted lips. “I don’t think you understand how much I want to kiss you right now.”

He bites down on his lip, as if refraining from committing those exact actions. I can’t seem to move, or breathe. I can’t think. It feels like a dream, and fuck if I’m going to wake up anytime soon. So I manage a minute nod, a gesture I’m not even sure he sees, but the glint in his eyes says that he doesn’t care. Slowly, Gerard leans in.

It’s nothing huge, but the mere contact of his lips when they find mine has me shivering with the anticipation. It’s heat and ice, fireworks set off against a clear night sky. It’s addiction and desire, mingling and twisting to create a spark deep within my chest.

And only seconds later, he’s pulling away. My eyes remain closed, Gerard’s forehead resting against mine. I feel the lingering taste of him on my lips along with his breath as he exhales slowly, a shaking breath. I bite down on my own quivering lip. “It’s so different with you,” I admit. I struggle to keep my voice loud enough for him to hear over the pounding of my heart, but my mouth feels dry, throat swollen, my tongue heavy. “With Zacky, it was like he made me feel like the only one in the world. I was special. Everything I did was to make him see how much I loved him. And he would always tell me, every time we had sex or I said it first, he would always tell me he loved me. But he was liar. Everything he ever said was a lie.”

It takes a moment before I have the courage to open my eyes, but when I do, I see Gerard is already watching me. He’s intent on my words, taking in every single syllable. It gives me the motivation I need to take a breath and find his hand under the sheets, twisting his fingers with my own. “But with you, it’s different. It’s like, you don’t have to say anything. You act like I’m the only person in the world.”

Gerard bites down on his lip and strokes the pad of his thumb across my cheek. I can feel the slight tremble of his movement, sure but nervous. “And what if I want to say it?” He wonders. “What if I want to tell you exactly how much you mean to me, Frank?”

I find myself shaking my head, a slow gesture, and swallow hard. “I don’t know if I’m ready to hear it,” I admit.

Gerard’s quiet for a moment longer, a tiny smile itching on the corners of his lips. “Then I won’t say it.”

And then he’s kissing me again. Words are lost between us, nothing more than the pressure of his mouth moving against mine. There’s so much spoken in that single kiss that words aren’t important. I lean into him, reveling in the feeling of his hand as it slips behind my neck, pulling me even closer. I tangle a hand into the front of his shirt, hooking a leg over his. His stomach is flat against mine, mine slightly bulged out, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s focused on only kissing me with as much passion as he can muster, leaving me a panting mess, my heart beating unnaturally fast against my ribs.

And when Gerard breaks away this time, he keeps his eyes closed. He’s breathing hard, his entire body seeming to shake with my own. “What if I want to say it?” He demands again. His voice is stronger, defiant and desperate at the same time. “Because… Fucking hell, Frank. I’m in love with you.”

Every single emotion known to mankind seems to swell in my stomach at that moment, balling and knotting and twisting. I was right-- I knew exactly what he was going to say before the words left his mouth, but I wasn’t ready to hear it.

Breathless, I wretch myself from the bed, untangling Gerard’s limbs from my own, and race down the hall, just reaching the toilet in time to throw up. I stay in the bathroom longer than actually necessary, trying to replay everything that just happened in my head. It’s mesmerizing to watch, like a record on repeat-- Gerard’s lips and hands, his voice, and those fucking words. But it makes my stomach turn again and I heave into the toilet bowl once more.

I wasn’t ready to hear those words, the words that Zacky used to say to me. I wasn’t ready to move on, though I knew Zacky had already done the same. And more than anything, I wasn't sure I was ready to admit to myself that I might love Gerard, too.


	43. I'm Just Fucking With Your Head

**[A/N: Title is what it is because I have a new obsession with the band Kongos. Seriously, I love them. They have a freaking accordion. OMF.**

**Also, I know you guys are all demanding I update more often, but here’s the thing-- I lost inspiration for this story for awhile, so I spent my time finishing I Love All The Poison and You Leave Me Breathless. Now, this is my main focus again. However, I’m sick (Again, Rachel? Really? How often does this happen?) A lot because I have a really shitty immune system. But basically, I’m trying to update as much as possible, but with not being able to breathe (thank you asthma and the doctor who refused to give me a new inhaler) and having to work, updates will happen whenever I can get them out. So please calm your various body parts, I am trying. <3**

**Fucking love you. xoRachel]**

Gerard is nowhere to be found when I finally get the courage to emerge from the bathroom. My stomach is growling with the contents now removed and I have an itching for more coffee. I absently wonder what this “too much” limit Ray referred to was. Is there a such thing as too much coffee? When I wander downstairs, I find Mikey already sitting at the dining table. He’s hunched forward over a steaming mug, untouched it seems, with his arms folded.

I sit down across from him, waiting for a few short moments before reaching across the table to poke him. Mikey jumps, looking up to meet my gaze with wide eyes. I try to hide my smile and quirk an eyebrow at him. “You okay?” I ask.

It takes him a second, but he nods and looks back down at his mug. It’s odd to see Mikey so blatantly lying-- He’s a freakishly good liar, a talent I don’t think he’s ever used on me-- and to see the confusion, the utter deception in his hazel eyes, makes me frown. Still, I remain silent until Mikey sighs, deciding on his own to break the tense air between us.

“I had sex with Ray,” He states.

I’m taken back by his bluntness, but fight to keep my expression neutral. Still, a frown settles on my lips. “Eww what the fuck, dude? I’ve slept on that bed.”

Mikey rolls his eyes melodramatically and gives me a deadpan look. “Not in my bed, dumbass.” He heaves out another heavy breath. One of his fingers runs along the brim of his mug and he watches it with intense interest. “And not recently. It was a few months ago, back when Gerard and I went to see him during Christmas break.” I vaguely recall the trip he’s talking about-- My own parents had basically kidnapped me and forced me to go to my grandmother’s house in Iowa for the holidays, while Gerard and Mikey went off to some college town without any parental figures at all. “His whole dorm threw his big party on Christmas Eve-- Everybody got hammered and the next thing I remember, I was waking up in bed next to Ray while Gerard stood at the door freaking the fuck out.” He chuckles softly at the memory, and the image makes me smile a little too-- I can picture Ray and Mikey tangled in an array of blankets as Gerard looked on in animated horror at the sight. It was an amusing thing to imagine, but just as quickly, my smile falls. I bite down on my lip and study Mikey. He’s still watching his coffee, seemingly oblivious to my gaze until I sigh heavily. He’s admitting this to me, and I feel the sudden desperate need to blurt out my own heavy secret.

“I kissed Gerard,” I state. I wait for a long time, but Mikey doesn’t react at all. His finger still moves along the brim, his body posture the exact same. So I press on. “He kissed me first, but I kissed him back. And then… He said some stuff.”

Mikey looks up at me then, raising a single eyebrow. “And did you say some stuff back?”

I bite down on my lip again and shake my head. I don’t have to spell it out for him, for which I’m thankful-- Mikey knows exactly what I’m telling him. “No. I ran to the bathroom and threw up.”

Mikey simply laughs, shaking his head. “I bet that really made him all hot and bothered.”

I roll my eyes, smirking. “Shut up. Asshole.”

Mikey only laughs again, before his face falls back into a serious expression. “So my brother likes you-- has for awhile, actually-- and he finally told you. And then you threw up… Because you don’t like him back?”

I remain silent for a long moment, setting my gaze on the table before me. Mikey waits patiently until eventually I shrug. “I don’t know,” I admit. “I mean, he’s your brother. It’s  _Gerard_. He’s been here the whole time. I know he’s not Zacky-- I think he actually cares about me. He helped me when Zacky didn’t. But that’s also the problem--  _He’s not Zacky_. And I know you think it’s stupid, but I just… I need time. I need to get my own fucked up life under control before I drag Gerard into it. I loved Zacky… I still do sometimes. And I’m having kids. I don’t have a family anymore, or money or a place to live--” I abruptly stop talking when I feel the tears surging forward. I close my eyes tightly and take a deep breath. “I have to get my own shit sorted out. I need to focus on them--” I put a hand on my stomach, glancing down at the growing bump. “I don’t want to drag Gerard into my shit.”

Mikey reaches forward, nudging my hand with his. I look up to see him smiling at me. “Frank, you’re not dragging Gerard into anything. He wants this. He wants you. And, crazy as it seems, he wants them, too.” Still, he shrugs and finally brings his mug to his lips for a drink. “But you’re not ready, and I think he knows that. He knows it’s hard for you. And I think he’s willing to wait.”

I replay all of that in my head, and it honestly makes me feel a little better. I know that Gerard isn’t going anywhere-- He promised he would help me with this, and I believe him. I trust him.

After a long moment, I look at Mikey and smirk. “So what about you and Ray? He likes you.”

Mikey groans and rolls his eyes. I can tell he would much rather go back to talking about me, but I poke his arm and my smile grows wider. “Come on, I want details. Not sex details-- Those are totally not necessary. But what’s going on with you guys?”

Mikey looks down, grimacing and looking slightly ashamed. “We made out in the car when we went out to get pizza yesterday,” He admits. He closes his eyes and he pinches the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “And then again last night. And then maybe this morning.”

I can’t help but laugh, hiding my smile behind my hand. “Okay, so he likes you. And obviously you like him back-- Right?”

With a heavy sigh, Mikey throws his hands up in exasperation. “I have no idea!” He has that panicked look in his eyes again, falling back in his seat and frowning. “I mean, yes. I love being around him. I love talking to him and the way he looks at me, it just drives me fucking crazy, alright? But… It’s  _Ray_. I grew up with him. I’ve known him literally my entire life. He was like family, and I love him.”

“You don’t make out with family,” I point out. I subtly reach across the table and pull Mikey’s mug closer to myself. He doesn’t seem to notice and I take a sip.

“I know.” Mikey groans again and lets his head fall forward onto the table. After a second, he sits up again and narrows his eyes at me. “It’s just weird, you know? It’s  _Ray_.”

I purse my lips and return the narrowed gaze. “Good weird or bad weird?”

Mikey hesitates, gnawing on his bottom lip before a smirk forms on his face. “Good weird,” He decides. “I think.”

I take another drink and set the mug down onto the table, meeting Mikey’s eyes. “Then you should make out with him again,” I suggest. “And maybe go on a date. If things get bad weird, then tell him.”

Mikey nods slowly. He reaches across the table and grabs the mug back out of my grasp, the greedy motherfucker. I look around at the empty room. “Where are they, anyway?” I ask.

Waving his hand in a vague gesture, Mikey sets the cup down. “They went to get help. They should be back in a few hours.”

My brow furrows and I find myself frowning, suddenly hesitant. “What do you mean help? What kind of help?”

“Josh and Bert. They're helping gather provisions,” Mikey replies cryptically and then rolls his eyes. “If we’re making a road trip to Akron, we need food and you need clothes that fit.”

“Akron?” I ask, growing even more confused by the second. “Why the hell are we going to Akron?”

“You said it yourself,” He retorts. “You don’t have a place to live, other than here. Ray knows someone in Ohio who has a place we can stay for awhile, at least until the babies are born. This friend of his is getting the place stocked with everything Ray will need, from ultrasound equipment to computers that can scan your blood. Your own personal hospital in the form of an apartment. Besides, we’re hoping news of the male pregnancy hasn’t spread outside of New Jersey yet, so nobody knows who you are there. It’ll be safer in Akron.”

I’m speechless for a long moment, unable to comprehend what he’s telling me. I’m moving to Ohio? They’re just packing me up and shipping me off to some town I’ve never even been to? I frown, feeling more like a burden than I have in a while. “I can leave, if you want,” I offer. I fight to keep my voice neutral, though it stings. Mikey is giving up on me. He’s sending me away so he doesn’t have to deal with me anymore. My lip quivers and I bite down hard on it, looking at my lap. “I’m sorry I’ve been relying on you guys, but I can leave.”

“Whoa, Frankie what the hell are you talking about?” Mikey sounds earnestly surprised and I look up to see him watching me with concern. “Dude, we’re not just sending you off on your own. I said we. We’re all going.” He nudges my leg under the table and smiles. “We’re a big happy fucking family and you need us. We’re sticking together.”

I find myself smiling back because it’s the first time in awhile that I actually feel like part of a real family. Mikey and Gerard-- They are my family now. They’re all the family I’ve got left and, placing a hand on my stomach once more, I realize we might actually be okay with that.

•••

“Who the hell trusted Josh and Bert to go shopping for me?” I hold the pink shirt up to my chest, measuring it against my torso. It’s still a little too wide for me, but it’s marked as large, and I don’t consider myself large yet. Across the front in blocky black letters reads “KNOCKED UP” with a little bow on the shoulder. I meet Gerard’s eyes across the room. There are bags upon bags of various sized shirts and pants piled on the bed and floor.

He smirks and tilts his head, studying the shirt before chuckling and pulling free another one. “I like this one.” He holds up a black fitted shirt, a white ribcage printed across the chest while two skeleton babies smile from the stomach.

I purse my lips before sighing in defeat. “Okay, yes. That one is awesome. But seriously, Gee? This one has  _flowers_.”

Gerard laughs again and shrugs, pushing some clothes away from himself to stand up, nearly tripping on the mess but managing to steady himself. “Josh volunteered to help pick up clothes,” He explains. “We should have expected something like this from him. And Bert went because he at least kind of knows what he’s doing. His sister had a baby a few months back. He’s the only one of us that isn’t completely clueless.”

I grimace, but accept the explanation. I huff out a sigh and begin digging through another bag, just as Ray appears in the doorway. He takes one look at the mess of clothes strewn across the room and his eyes widen. “You guys are so not going to be ready.”

“Ready?” I look between him and Gerard, feeling panicked suddenly. “Ready… For Akron? When are we leaving?”

Ray glances at Gerard, who shrugs dismissively, riffling through a few pairs of jeans. “If things go as planned, tomorrow morning.”

My own eyes widen this time and I find myself gaping at both of them. “Tomorrow? Dude, there’s no way in hell I’m getting all of this repacked that quick.”

“Relax, Frankie,” Gerard smiles, and I ignore the acceleration in my heartbeat with the nickname. I haven’t actually talked to him since this morning, when he professed his love to me and I blew chunks. I couldn’t be sure if the awkwardness was just me, or if Gerard felt it too. If he did, he said nothing. “We can get Josh to just throw it all in the trunk.”

I frown and look down at the bag before me, which feels pestiferous suddenly, and push it away with a single finger. “It just feels really fast, you know?” I meet Gerard’s gaze again and he offers a sympathetic smile.

“It is happening really fast,” He admits. “But the sooner we can get you to Akron, the better. Ray can check how the twins are doing, how you’re doing…” Gerard hesitates, biting his lip and scrutinizing me for a long moment. “How are you doing?”

I shrug, not really knowing how else to respond. I’m scared, excited, nervous, and I might want to throw up again. But I know he’s not just asking about the pregnancy. It’s the first time either of us has breached this subject since the kiss and I feel like I’m walking on eggshells. “I don’t know,” I admit. I let out a helpless laugh and roll my eyes. “I have no fucking idea how I am.” I sigh, meeting Gerard’s eyes. He looks hopeful and I feel an invisible weight holding me down with the gaze, making it unable to move. I realize that Ray has disappeared from the room once more, leaving Gerard and I alone, so I manage to stand and move to him. I swallow down my fear, standing a small distance away-- close enough to touch, but far enough away to run the other direction if needed. “Did you mean it? What you said this morning?”

Gerard’s lips quirk up in a sideways smirk and he blushes a faint pink color. “Of course I meant it, Frank. I do.” His voice lowers, only an exhale, but so loud in my ears. “I love you, Frank.” He looks nervous, unsure if I’m going to throw up again, but this time I manage to hold it down though my insides are screaming, bursting, tearing at each other in a desperate surge of emotion.

I simply nod slowly. “I need you, Gerard. Like a whole fucking lot. I can’t do this without you.”

Gerard’s only response is a smile before he pulls me in, wrapping his arms around me. He knows I can’t say it back-- I can’t tell him I love him when I’m not even sure what I feel. But he knows my words are true-- I need him more than anything right now-- and somehow that’s good enough for both of us.


	44. Forty4

I lean across Josh’s lap, sticking my head out of the car window. Josh grunts when I land an elbow to his stomach, but I ignore his pain and wave frantically at Gerard. They refused to actually let me go in, so we were parked in the busy lot of some banal fast food chain-- Josh was instructed to wait in the car with me to make sure I didn’t make a break for it while Gerard and Bert went in to order. “Get me curly fries!” I command.

Gerard rolls his eyes, a gesture visible even halfway across the parking lot, and frowns. “It would not kill you to eat something healthy, Frank.”

I groan, pout, and then sigh when I see he’s not going to budge. “Fine, get me apples or something. But I want my fucking milkshake.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Gerard’s response is only just audible as I lean back into the car, watching as he and Bert retreat into the restaurant.

It’s just past noon and we’ve only just barely started our drive to Akron. After a hug from Donna and a promise to keep her updated, we left with my new collection of clothes in the trunk. So far, I had snacked on peanut M&M’s and Starbursts, but when Gerard had frowned unhappily and suggested we get some real food, we ended up here. Bert pointed out a Subway down the street, but I wasn’t really hungry anyway-- My morning sickness had started to subside, but I still felt queasy on the ride, so I refused.

Ray and Mikey had taken a separate car and had managed to lose us already. Luckily, Gerard had programmed the correct address into his GPS and we weren’t completely lost without them.

I’m playing with the stereo when Gerard and Bert come back with three bags of food. Gerard hands me a chocolate milkshake, which I begin slurping at instantly, as well as a bag. When I peer inside, I see a few bags of sliced apples and an order of curly fries. I grin, digging in while the others situate themselves-- Gerard nudges Josh and motions toward the passenger's seat before tossing the keys to Bert.

I cock an eyebrow as Gerard climbs into the backseat next to me. “You’re trusting Bert to drive your car?” I ask incredulously.

Gerard shrugs, a noncommittal gesture, while Bert twists in the front seat to look at me. “I’ll have you know, I am a very good driver,” He informs me, and then glances at Gerard with a smile. “Don’t worry, Gee baby. Your car is safe in my hands.”

Gerard grabs a fry from my bag, rolling his eyes and grumbling,“I’m beginning to regret this already.”

“Really?” I wonder. “ _Now_  is when you’re regretting this? Because I started regretting it as soon as the words “ _Bert is coming to Akron with us_ ” left your mouth.”

Gerard shrugs, a halfway agreeable gesture, as Bert shifts into drive and the car pulls out of the spot. It’s only a few miles down the road, half a bag of apples gone, that my stomach starts to protest. I roll down the window a few inches, leaning over to get as much air as possible as it whirls through the car. It seems to whistle in my ears and I close my eyes, hearing nothing but the wind, the sound of cars passing every few seconds, the music just background noise through the speakers.

When I feel a hand on my shoulder, I look up to see Gerard watching me, concerned. “You don’t look so good,” He comments. “You alright?”

I shift in my seat and shrug. I pull both legs up onto the seat and wrap my arms around my knees. “Carsick, I guess. Bert’s driving has that effect on me.”

I earn a middle finger from Bert but Gerard’s frown is replaced with a minute smile that forms on his lips. “Why don’t you sleep?” He suggests. “We’ve still got a long drive ahead of us.”

I shift again and grimace, not seeming able to get comfortable. Gerard chuckles, realizing this, and I feel his hand wrap around mine. I don’t fight the contact of his fingers pressing against my own, simply letting him pull me over to him. I lay against his shoulder, fidgeting for a second before resting my head on his lap instead. I grasp one of his hands, lacing our fingers together, while I feel him begin stroking a few fingers through my hair. I sigh in content and within moments I’m asleep.

I wake up a few short hours later when we stop at a gas station to fill up the car. It’s some side-of-the-road no name place, only two other cars in the small lot, and I climb out. Gerard follows me curiously, watching me as I stretch both arms up, hearing my bones crack and joints pop. He doesn’t argue, letting me enjoy the measly amount of fresh air I can grasp-- We’re out of Jersey by now and I don’t necessarily look pregnant yet, so we shouldn’t claim any unwanted attention here.

“I have to pee,” I tell him. “Can you get me a Monster?”

Gerard quirks an eyebrow, following me into the cramped station. An older woman glances up at us from behind the counter, but pays us no mind before going back to staring at the wall. “You’re three months pregnant,” Gerard reminds me, his voice low. “You can’t have an energy drink.”

I groan. I wander down the first aisle, glancing absently at the snack cakes there but feeling no desire to actually buy them. “Fine,” I say defeatedly. “Can I have orange juice?”

Gerard’s arm bumps into mine as we round the corner to another aisle, this one lined on one side with pregnancy tests and tampons. I grimace and immediately retreat to the refrigerated section. Along the wall, I spot the bathroom door hanging open and make a beeline for it.

When I come out, Gerard is waiting near the counter with a bottle of orange juice and a Red Bull. I make a face, gesturing to the drinks. “How come you’re allowed to have energy drinks and I’m not?”

Gerard smirks, giving me a “ _you know why_ ” look before pulling out his wallet to pay the lady. “It’s for Bert,” He says.

Still, I stick out my tongue, accepting the juice he hands to me with a sulking “there better be vodka in it,” before sauntering past him outside. Back at the pump, Josh is sitting on the hood of the car, scrolling through his phone while Bert hovers near his shoulder. When we near them, they both look up, Josh jumping off the hood and shoving his phone into the space between us. “Look at this shit,” He commands. On the small screen, I see what looks like a news article. I scan a few of the words, but none of it makes any sense until Josh huffs out a sigh and pulls it back to read it for me. “ _Local New Jersey male pregnancy sparks national interest when blood testing is proven positive_.” He glances up at me and frowns. “T _he man accountable for this finding, Dr. Matthew Webb, has no comment other than his previous promise to “serve in the name of science, for greater good and health of everyone.” As of now, Frank Lero, the alleged pregnant male, has not been spoken to and his parents and all other forms of contact are refusing to comment. Few groups have come forward in protest of the “abomination” that is Mr. Lero, while others are supporting his privacy and encouraging the press to  “leave him alone in his time of need._ ” I mean, they called you Frank  _Lero_. What the hell?” Josh bites down on his lip and looks up at me over the phone, but I can’t seem to focus on him. He seems far away, his voice resonating in my ears, repeating the taunting words again and again like a broken record that just won’t stop.

It’s only when I feel Gerard’s hand wrapping around mine that I realize I’m shaking quite a bit. “It’s not just Jersey anymore,” I state. My stomach twists and I feel sick. I jerk my hand free from Gerard’s and make it to the edge of the parking lot just in time to heave my scarce lunch into the weeds. I wring the cold bottle of juice in my hands, thirst long forgotten. I’m hunched forward, tears streaming freely down my cheeks, when I feel someone’s hand on my shoulder as they crouch beside me. I think I have some vomit in my hair, but I don’t even care anymore. All I can feel is the weight of the world crashing down around me. “It’s not just Jersey,” I repeat. My voice is thick with the sobs that seem to shake my entire body. “It’s everywhere. Fuck Akron, I’m not even safe there anymore. Gerard, what the hell am I supposed to do? He’s not just going to leave me alone. None of them are.” I finally look up, meeting a gaze I didn’t expect. Instead of Gerard’s hazel eyes, I find myself lost in deep seas of blue.

Bert frowns, poking some hair out of my face with a grimace.

I wipe the back of my hand across my mouth and sigh, shaking my head sadly. “What am I doing?” I ask in a hopeless voice, my words cracking near the end and fading off into nothing more than a broken whisper, begging him to help me in a way I know no one can. “I’m sixteen. I’m a boy. What the hell am I thinking? I can’t do this. It’s not normal. They’re right. I’m a fucking abomination.”

Bert’s brow creases and he sets me with an intense stare. “You wanna tell your kids that?” He wonders, sounding curious. “You’re three months along, right? They should be developing hearing soon, they can hear you call them an abomination. They won’t know what it means yet, but they’ll figure it out eventually. They’ll realize that everyone, even their own dad, thinks their lives are a mistake. You can tell them how just by being born, they’re fucking up your life.”

I find myself shaking my head. My lips are parted and it feels like there’s a heavy weight on my chest. “They’re not,” I shake my head again for emphasis, a fervent motion. “No. None of this is their fault.” It makes me angry suddenly and a wave of heat rushes over me. I remember then why I don’t like this asshole, the fucking prick! My trembling stops and I shove Bert with as much strength as I can muster, knocking him back onto his ass on the hard pavement. I glare at him, my jaw tightening. “They’re  _babies_. Sure, maybe I’m fucked up, but this isn’t their fault.”

A small smile forms on Bert’s lips and his previous glare disappears. And it’s in that moment that I realize he’s not being mean to me, he’s not insulting the babies. He’s showing me why I’m doing this; I’m fighting for them, for their lives, even if it means losing everything else. He’s showing me that the press, all the media and those protesting groups, they’re wrong-- Maybe it’s unnatural, maybe I’m kind of messed up, but that doesn’t mean I’m an abomination. And neither are the babies.

I bite down on my lip, watching Bert curiously for a long moment. He makes no move to stand up, simply watching me from his place on the ground next to me. “Were you serious about them developing hearing soon?” I ask.

Bert nods, wiping some dirt off his jeans. “Sixteen weeks, I think. I don’t think they understand what you say, but they can hear you. I think it makes them happy, though, just hearing something. It’s calming or some shit.” He shrugs and leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, meeting my eyes once again. “The rest of the world already thinks you’re fucked up,” He informs me. “If you start believing it, what hope are they gonna have?” And with that, he stands and goes back to the car, leaving me alone in the dirt

Gerard wanders over to me a few minutes later, sitting next to me. He says nothing. After a second, I look over at him. “Bert’s an asshole,” I state, earning an agreed nod from Gerard. He already knows this. “But he’s right. Everybody thinks I’m some freak of science, but it doesn’t matter what they think. It’s just us. Me and the twins-- We’re alone in this.”

Gerard shakes his head, bumping his shoulder against mine. “Not completely alone,” He reminds me with a smile. “So the press is up your ass for being different, big fucking deal. We just have to lay low for now. Frank, we’re going to figure this out. Together.” I feel him reach into my lap, resting his hand on my stomach. It’s when I feel his touch on me that I feel a responding flutter inside, just a faint movement in reaction to his. Gerard can’t feel it of course, but it makes a smile appear on my lips.

“I think they like you,” I tell him.

A smile lights up Gerard’s face and he looks like a proud parent suddenly, his eyes alight with a glimmer that makes my chest flutter too. I reach down to place my hand over his, reveling in the sweet feeling of the moment, the serenity that seems so out of place in a near vacant parking lot of a rundown gas station. Gerard looks up, meeting my eyes as his smile softens. Without thinking about it, I find myself leaning forward, pressing my lips to his. The contact is short, the kiss lasting only a split second before I remember I just threw up fifteen minutes ago. Still, Gerard doesn’t seem to mind, lacing his fingers through mine and grinning. When he stands, he pulls me to my feet as well. “We should get going,” He comments. “They might not recognize you yet, but we probably look like we’re going to rob the place just standing out here in the parking lot.”

I chuckle and allow myself to be pulled toward the car, climbing into the backseat with Gerard while Josh and Bert retreat to the front. Even when the others begin arguing over which CD to play, I can’t seem to erase the smile that seems now permanently painted on my face.

•••

“Mikey. Gerard. Bert. And Josh.” Ray hands the last key out, keeping one for himself. Each key has a different colored tag, corresponding with the line of colors on the apartments buzzer, and beside each color a scribbled name.

I wait, but Ray shows no sign of handing me a key. I fold my arms tightly across my chest. “Where’s my key?” I wonder.

Ray grimaces guiltily and looks to Mikey for help. Mikey sighs to my left and offers a shrug. “We’re all rooming up,” He explains. “Gerard and Ray, Bert and Josh, and you’re with me.” He holds up his key by the round pink tag. “I have the key.”

I narrow my eyes at him and point a finger accusingly at the others. “Then how come they all get keys?”

Mikey frowns and looks down at his shoes. “Because we don’t want you to leave.”

My mouth falls open and I gape at him for a long moment. “I’m a hostage.” Mikey rolls his eyes, but I gasp dramatically. “Holy shit, I’m a fucking hostage. You’re keeping me hostage here!”

Josh laughs at my sudden outburst, but Bert lands a solid elbow to his ribs and he covers it with a cough. Gerard steps forward then and shakes his head. “You’re not being held hostage. But your face is all over the news. If you go out and someone recognizes you…” His words trail off and I fight the shiver that sparks up my spine. I know as well as he does what could happen if anyone sees me-- Scientists, asshole doctors, news vans and demanding reporters.

I frown and cross my arms again, this time in defeat. “Fine.” I huff out an angry breath. “I’m a voluntary hostage.”

Ray forces a smile that doesn’t seem at all convincing. “On the bright side, your room has a balcony.” When I turn my glare on him, he purses his lips and gestures to the front entrance. “Shall we?”

Our rooms are all on the third floor. On the walk up-- the elevator busted due to some unknown accident-- Ray explains that his friend from college was the son of a distinguished professor at the same University. When Ray told him about a “special, confidential, seriously nobody can know about this situation,” he was more than happy to help out in any way he could. As it turns out, this friend-- Bob, Ray told us was his name-- was helpful in more ways than one; His father pulled a few strings to get Ray the needed equipment and his mother was able to find a near empty apartment building for us to set up. Bob was even willing to pay for our stay here, as well as anything else we needed, on one condition…

“You told him!?” I demand. We’ve reached the third floor and Ray is unlocking the door matching his key tag.

He shrugs helplessly, pushing the door open and moving inside. I follow him in, absolutely fuming. “I had to,” He pleads. He turns to look at me, a frown creasing his lips. “There was no other way. Look, we can trust him alright? He wants to help.”

I scoff and it feels like something twisting in my gut. “Yeah, Dr. Webb wanted to help, too. Then my face turned up on the six o’clock news. Sorry if I don’t fucking trust this guy.”

“I wouldn’t trust him either.” The voice is unfamiliar to me and my eyes instantly land on the extra human we didn’t have with us before. Standing along the far wall, near the entryway into the kitchen is a guy I don’t recognize. He looks a few years older, buffed up with scruffy blond hair and the beginning of a beard. His lips are quirked up in a sideways smirk. “We are talking about Bob, right? Yeah, dude sounds like a dick.”

“Let me guess,” I retort. I cross my arms again, low on my stomach, like the gesture might hide what everyone knows is inside. “You’re Bob.”

He smiles, raising both arms in a wide sweeping gesture to himself. “In the flesh. Frank, I presume?” I don’t answer and he watches me with a piercing blue gaze for a long time. At first I think he’s checking me out, but with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, he finally says, “You’re smaller in person. Like a hobbit.” He chuckles to himself. “I’m gonna call you Frodo.”

I clench my jaw and turn to Gerard. He’s watching the exchange with an amused smile, almost hidden when he bites his lip and tries to pull a straight face. “All of your friends are assholes,” I tell him.

Bert looks offended, putting a hand to his chest and exclaiming, “I resent that!” just as Gerard’s eyebrows shoot up and he jabs a finger in Ray’s direction. “Bob’s not my friend. Blame Ray for that asshole. I only claim Bert.”

This time, Bert turns his appalled expression on Gerard. “I’m right here!”

I roll my eyes before scanning the room for Ray again, who’s now standing by Mikey’s side. “You told him,” I accuse once more.

Ray sighs. “I had to. It was the only way we could have everything we need here. No hospitals, no reporters, no crazy doctors. And besides, Bob knows what he’s doing. I’m still only year two Anatomy. Bob’s actually in his final year for a medical degree. He’s got experience with this kind of stuff.”

“Experience with male pregnancy?” I ask, the doubt obvious in my voice.

On the far wall, Bob grins. “I will after I deal with you.”

I look around to everyone else in the room; Gerard looks dubious, but gives me a small nod of encouragement, while Ray watches me with a hopeful gaze. Mikey is watching me with his famous poker face before shrugging one shoulder. Bert and Josh had disappeared, probably to unload the cars into our separate rooms, and Bob just keeps his eyes focused on me. He doesn’t look pressuring and the humor is gone from his features. After a long silence, he heaves a heavy sigh and pushes off of the wall.

Coming to stand directly in front of me, he stops. “You’re fucked,” He states simply, which okay… It’s true. But it’s not exactly reassuring. “The doctor you had shoved you under the metaphorical bus and from what I’ve seen on the news, your parents aren’t exactly willing to help out. Babies’ other daddy is fucking off doing God knows what--” I flinch at the mention of Zacky, but Bob isn’t fazed. “As it seems, I’m the only one left you can trust.”

The ultimatum seems to get stuck in my throat and I swallow down hard. “I don’t trust you.”

Bob nods, completely understanding this. “But I’m all you’ve got. You trust them, right?”

My response is a noncommittal hand gesture, accompanied by a vague “ehh…” sound because, though I trust Gerard and Mikey, I’m still not so sure about Ray. Even still, he got me here. He’s got me a place to live and someone who can help figure out what the hell is going on with my “man having babies” situation.

Bob seems to take this as consent because he quirks an eyebrow and puts a hand between us. “What do you say, Frodo? Friends?”

I hesitate for a long moment before sighing and taking his much bigger hand in mine. “Allies.”

Bob nods again, shaking my hand. “Allies. I can work with that.” When he takes his hand away he shoves both of them into the pockets on his jeans. Rocking back on his heels, he looks around the room once before his gaze lands back on me. “So can we look at the babies now?”


	45. Capitolo Quarantacinque

I knock his hand away from me as a frown falls on my lips. “You’re wrong,” I inform him, only sulking a little. Gerard opens his mouth to speak, but I shake my head, cutting him off before he even has the chance to make words. “No. You sit there quietly and be wrong.”

Gerard complies, closing his mouth, but a smile forms of his lips. I narrow my eyes, though he mimics my expression. Mikey saunters into the room before it can turn into a full-blown staring contest and I sigh heavily, turning my attention to him. “Michael, please tell your brother he is wrong.”

“Gee, you’re wrong.” Mikey takes a seat next to Gerard and I smile, pleased.

Gerard throws his hands up. “No! Tell Frank he’s wrong. He says that it’s supposed to be _rock, paper, scissors, shoot_ instead of just _rock, paper, scissors_ _._ ”

Mikey grimaces, nodding and looking back at me. “Yeah, okay. Frank, you’re wrong.”

“Bullshit!” I sit up straighter, a feat all in itself with the medical bed laid back at an angle. “You can’t go on _scissors_ , you go on _shoot_!”

Mikey makes a noncommittal noise and then shakes his head. “No shoot. You go on scissors.”

An angry huff escapes me and I narrow my eyes again. “You can’t go on scissors. If you go on scissors, it’s like some mental fuckery and you always end up just choosing scissors. You have to do shoot!”

“I agree with Frodo on this one.” I don’t even have to look up to know it’s Bob that’s just inserted himself into our conversation. He’s the only one to call me Frodo, and I don’t even argue this time because he’s agreeing with me.

I simply offer another grin. “Told you so.”

The conversation ends after that with me immaturely sticking my tongue out and Gerard flicking it, to which I make an appalled face and Mikey adds an “Eww gross, you just touched his tongue!”

Gerard shrugs, unbothered. “My tongue has touched his tongue. I think the gross-out factor is gone.”

The way he so casually mentions shoving his tongue into my mouth has my face heating up and I sink back down into the bed. Looking around, I find Bob flipping switches on the machine to my right. “Where are the others?” I wonder. I figured that Josh would want to record this and Bert, never having actually seen my ultrasounds before, might be curious. And Ray is supposed to be my doctor here, where the hell is he?

But Bob shrugs one shoulder, typing a few things into the computer. “Taking bets, I think.”

My brow furrows. “Taking bets on what?”

Bob looks up at me this time as if it should be obvious why my friends are gambling in the other room. “Sexes. Josh says they’ll be girls, and Bert seems to think they’re some alien lifeform.”

I try not to show how terrified that idea makes me-- I’m already a pregnant male. I really don’t need fucking ET’s growing inside me. Instead, I just lean back and pull my shirt up to expose the rounded surface. I turn my head to Gerard and Mikey. “What do you guys think?”

“Boys,” Mikey replies easily. “Both of them.”

Gerard thinks it over for a minute before smiling. “Girls.” I sigh and let my head fall back onto the pillow, staring at the ceiling above me. To be honest, I hadn’t given it much thought until this point; They’re babies and whether they’re male or female hasn’t been important. Of course, in a few months, I’m going to need to start getting things for them-- Clothes, bottles… What else do babies need? I have that sudden aching feeling in my stomach again. I’m not ready for this. I have no idea what I’m doing.

But I’m pulled out of my thoughts when I feel the cool gel Bob squirts onto my stomach. Ray, Bert, and Josh wander in just as he’s rubbing it around and the monitor is filled with black and white static. Josh appears directly next to me, his camera once again pointed up and ready to catch every moment. I roll my eyes and pretend he’s not there… Constantly hovering…

Bob motions to the computer, glancing at Ray. He looks so professional suddenly and I have a hard time believing this is the same guy who compared me to a hobbit two hours ago. “Can you fill in measurements?”

Ray nods, happy to help. When he’s behind the keyboard, Bob shifts the prod thingy he’s using the see the twins, pushing down on my stomach a little. He hums softly under his breath, scratching his beard absently. “There,” He points to the monitor, but I see nothing but random patches of black and white. “Baby one.”

Ray types in something, muttering, “Head is just over three-point-seven.” And then he gasps and gestures wildly to the screen. “Did you see it!?”

For a second, my heart skips a beat-- He’s seeing something wrong. Something very wrong. But Bob is smiling, nodding along. “Yeah, I saw it.” He looks down at me and the asshole who I first met is completely gone. I like this Bob a lot more. “Baby one is definitely a boy.”

I feel a smile appear on my own lips and I look at the screen again. Still, all I see is black and white. No babies. Just fuzz. Bob seems to understand this and points to the monitor with a single finger. “Do you see that white part?” He asks. He runs his finger along a white strip, a circular outline of more gray. “That’s the baby’s head.” And then, miraculously, I do see it. It’s unclear and fuzzy and it doesn’t even look human, but it’s there. It’s a baby, a head and a little body curled in on itself, and it’s a boy. It’s my boy.

I wipe away a stray tear and sniffle. Nobody makes fun of me for crying, but I bite down on my lip. “I’m having a boy.” I blink a few times and grin. “What about the other one?” I ask.

Bob turns his attention back to the monitor, moving around the probe. Ray notes another number and Bob narrows his eyes at the screen for a second before turning his gaze to Ray. “Three point nine, are you sure?”

Ray nods, retaking his measurements just in case. “Positive.”

Bob’s lips screw up and he looks discontent, asking Ray to take a few more measurements. Slowly, my happiness fades. “Is something wrong?” I finally ask.

Bob shakes his head, not bothering to look away from the monitor. “No, she’s just big, that’s all. They both are. Only a little larger than average, but still.” He sees the concern on my face and shakes his head again. “Seriously, it’s nothing to be worried about. I mean, it’s okay that they’re bigger, it just means they’re developing faster. That’s how I could tell the genders already.”

And then something he said before occurs to me and my eyes widen. “ _She_?”

Bob chuckles, shifting the probe around on my stomach. “Yep. Baby number two is a girl.”

Bob and Ray take a few more measurements and talk some more, but I don’t really pay attention to what they’re saying. I feel like I’m on a high, buzzing with excitement and euphoria; I’m having babies. I’m having a boy and girl. Holy shit…

It feels more real, knowing what they are. It’s almost like I can feel them more inside, heavy on my gut, putting more pressure on than usual. I’m jerked from my thoughts when I feel a needle go in my arm. “What the fuck?” I glare at Bob, but he only offers a shrug.

He waits for the tube to fill up with thick red liquid before pulling it back and explaining, “I want to get some of your blood tested. Just make sure everything is doing okay.” I frown, watching as he puts the syringe into a box and turning his attention to something on the computer. The fucking blood stealer.

When I have the gel wiped off and Bob releases me from the ultrasound, reassuring me once again that “everything seems fine, really. Relax, Frodo.” I feel exhausted. Mikey and Gerard follow me back to the apartment I’m to share with the younger Way. There’s a mess of boxes and clothing we’ve yet to put away, but I step over them and move to the attached bedroom. The others hesitate in the living area and through the wall, I hear some muffled voices. A few minutes later, the front door shuts and Gerard appears in the bedroom doorway. He looks nervous, looking torn between coming in and leaving without saying a word. I take my shirt off and toss it onto the floor, already beginning a pile of dirty clothes-- I know Mikey is going to give me shit for it later, but right now I couldn’t care less.

When I lay back on the bed, I sigh. The scent of the unfamiliar sheets fills my lungs and I frown. “I don’t need a babysitter.” I look over at Gerard, still in the doorway. Slowly, he moves into the room and sits down on the bed. I turn over onto my side to face him. I know he’s not here to babysit me, but his reason still hangs unspoken in the air between us until I sigh again and grab his hand in mine. He lets me pull him down to lie next to me, and then scoot closer on the mattress. I rest my head on his shoulder and breathe in, letting the familiarity fill me, chasing away the taunting scent of the unknown. He smells like an ashtray and black coffee and maybe like he hasn’t showered in a few days, but I close my eyes, breathing him in again. “Both,” I mumble. I can already feel unconsciousness dragging at the corners of my mind. Gerard’s fingers are brushing through my hair and it’s kind of making it hard to think. “I’m having both. Boy and girl.” Gerard makes an agreeable sound. “Do you think they can hear me?”

Gerard’s shoulder moves a little with a gesture I think is a shrug. “I don’t know,” He admits. His voice is low, dreamlike in my half-awake state. “If they could hear you right now, what would you tell them?”

I think about that for a long minute, simply feeling his hands against me, his warmth swallowing me whole, and the warmth seeming to come from inside myself. “I love them…” I say. I hum softly, snuggling farther into the warmth, whispering, “Love you.” And this time, I’m not sure if I’m telling the babies or Gerard, but either way, it feels true.

 


	46. Toy Orphan

“Glen.”

I open my mouth, tilting my head up and to the left. The piece of popcorn lands on my tongue and I grimace as I bite into it, shaking my head at the suggestion. “Am I having the seed of Chucky? No Glen.”

“So I guess Glenda is out, too?” Mikey looks dejected for only a second before tossing me another piece of popcorn. I roll my eyes and he instantly goes back to thinking. “What about Reggie?”

I purse my lips and chew slowly, contemplating it for a long time. Finally I shake my head. “Isn’t that usually short for Reginald or something? Sir Reginald Way. No, that sounds more like an Elton John cover artist than a kid.”

Over the past few days we’ve been staying in the apartments, I’ve spent half the time debating names. Since finding out what they are, I’ve felt more compelled to actually call them something other than ‘the babies.’ Everyone had put in their own suggestions-- Josh demanding I name them Josh Junior and Joshtine, while Bert laughed and suggested “Thing One and Thing Two.” Ray and Bob seemed indifferent for the most part, instead finding it easier to focus on the technical side of things, like making sure all three of us were healthy. Mikey had been giving me every name that popped into his head and scowling when I turned down the ones he actually liked. But nothing seemed fitting enough. The only decision I had actually come to make was the last name; Way.

Since Zacky was obviously no part of this, Baker wasn’t even an option. And I felt that Iero held too many ties that I didn’t want to pass on to the twins-- Besides my bigot parents who still claimed the same surname, I had my own identity to forget. Leaving behind  _Iero_ was better for all of us, cutting the ties that led not only back to my parents, but to every news article that staked the title “pregnant male” with the name. I didn’t want my kids to live in the shadow of that.

And so I had chosen Way. Mikey was the only thing I had left even resembling family so it wasn’t really a hard decision to make.

Mikey laughs, tossing more popcorn into his own mouth and then some over to me. “Okay, no Reggie. Kurt?”

I sigh and swallow a mouthful of Pepsi before replying. “Now you’re just naming musicians,” I accuse. “Am I having a Dave and Krist, too?”

Mikey groans and sinks down lower on his end of the couch we currently share, but the position only makes him look folded in half, with no neck and multiple chins. “You’re so picky,” He informs me. Still, he casts me a serious look over the almost-empty bag of popcorn and quirks an eyebrow. “You could always do what Josh suggested-- Name one of them after us. Preferably the boy. Michael Joshua Way.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “I believe Josh’s suggestion was Joshua Michael, not the other way around.” I shift on the cushion. My butt is numb from how long I’ve been sitting and my stomach is currently demanding pizza rolls, so I push off from my seat and make my way into the small attached kitchen. Bob had been the only one to actually leave the apartments since we’d been here, only going out once or twice for cigarettes, Taco Bell, and coffee. The rest of us had stayed holed up in our temporary homes, though I think everyone spent more time in the apartment Mikey and I shared than their own.

As if on cue, the apartment door swings open. From here, I can’t tell who it is, but I see Mikey crane his neck toward the entrance and scowl. “Ever heard of knocking?” He wonders. “I could have been masturbating.”

“Totally not the image I wanted in my head.” I recognize the voice instantly as Gerard’s and can imagine him frowning.

Mikey shrugs his shoulders and stuffs more popcorn into his mouth. “Would have been worse if you walked in on it.”

“Gee!” I yell. I let the refrigerator door fall closed and cross my arms, turning just as Gerard wanders into the kitchen. He has a paper bag in his arms, and just over the top I can see the corner of a box of macaroni and cheese. I gasp as he sets the bag down on the counter. Peering into it’s contents, I glance up at Gerard. “You actually went shopping. Did you get me pizza rolls?”

Gerard hums softly as he digs through the bag for a moment and then pulls free a yellow and orange bag. “Cheese for you, Combo for Mikey.”

I grin, grabbing the bag from his hands. I dump half the pizza rolls on a plate, shoving it into the microwave and pushing a few buttons. The faint buzzing sound fills the kitchen and I turn back to Gerard to see what else he bought.

Gerard is unloading the contents onto the counter, most of it frozen meals and Ramen noodles. He grimaces. “I didn’t really have much to work with,” He says apologetically and I feel a pang of guilt. “But I called my mom last night and she said she would put some extra money on my debit card so we can afford more food. She says hi, by the way. Anyways, Bob offered to make us all a shared account. An account we all have access to in case we need anything.”

Gerard looks up to put a bag of Ramen noodles into the cabinet, but his actions freeze when he sees my face. I can’t see myself, but I feel my lips tugging downward. Gerard’s frown mimics my own. “What’s wrong?”

I wave a hand vaguely at the food lining the kitchen counter. “This. I feel like a fucking freeloader.”

Gerard shakes his head, abandoning the noodles to turn and face me completely. “No way. Frank, you’re not a freeloader. We agreed to this. That’s why we’re here. We want to help.”

“And what about me?” I demand. “Hell Gerard, I’m a fucking charity case.” My frown deepens and I find myself angry suddenly. I don’t want them to help me because they feel obligated to, because they feel sorry for me, because I don’t have anywhere else to go. “I’m not just sitting back and letting you guys take care of me while I become some moocher. I’m not a moocher, Gee. I’m refuse to mooch.”

A sad smile tugs at Gerard’s lips. “You’re not mooching, Frankie.” Without realizing it, he’s seemed to have moved closer. Or I moved closer. I’m really not sure which, but somehow Gerard and I are closer than we were two seconds ago. I feel his breath on my cheeks when he bites down nervously on his lip. For a split second, I forget that Mikey is sitting in the other room, that my stomach is constantly inflating, that I have two little beings squirming around inside me, because the only thing I see is Gerard’s eyes.

The loud beep of the microwave makes me jump, dragging both mine and Gerard’s attention back to the food. Gerard begins again putting the various boxes and bags away while I pull my pizza rolls from the microwave. I set the plate down on the counter to cool, taking notice then of the book lying a few inches away. The cover is blue and pink striped, with three small babies crawling across the bottom. “A baby name book?” I reach out, taking it from it’s place on the counter and flipping through a few pages.

Gerard shrugs, stuffing some cans into the cabinet. “I figured it might help.”

I open to a random page, looking down at the first name I find. “Melvis?” I immediately shut the book and put it back down dejectedly. “I hate that book. Melvis Way?”

Gerard chuckles and grabs the book. “I’m sure not all of them are bad.” He opens the book, squints his eyes, and frowns. “Diamond Way.” He looks up at me with a serious expression. “I’m sorry, Frank. We’re naming your daughter Diamond Way. She may or may not grow up to be a stripper.”

I shrug indifferently. “Well at least we can still count on little Melvis. He will carry on the family name.”

Gerard laughs and tosses the book back onto the counter. “Okay, so maybe the book was a bad idea.” He steals one of my pizza rolls and chews thoughtfully, organizing two rows of Ramen noodles on the bottom shelf. “Have you seen Ray?”

I shake my head and take my own rolled up bite of pizza. “Ask your brother,” I suggest. “He’s the one who lives up Ray’s ass.”

“I heard that!” Mikey calls from the sofa. He’s finished the popcorn by now and his face is buried in the cushion, his glasses twisted and nearly falling off his face. “And no, I have not seen Ray or his ass all day.” He’s quiet for just a second and then I can practically hear the smile in his voice. “It’s a very nice ass, by the way.”

“Okay eww…” Gerard closes his eyes, trying to get the imagery out of his head, and sighs while I simply laugh and grab another roll. “He texted me earlier and said Bob was taking him to the University campus to run some tests on your blood and he would let me know more later. It’s later and I still haven’t heard from him.”

I offer a very helpful shrug and focus on chewing, mostly because I don’t want to think about what they might find in my blood samples. The last time someone ran tests on my blood, I found out I was having a kid. I don’t even want to imagine what they might find this time around.

**•••**

Two hours later, Bert and Josh have joined us in the increasingly small apartment. By now, Mikey has shifted from lying across the sofa and is currently strewn out on the floor. His legs are propped up in Bert’s lap, who sits cross-legged in the middle of the living room. Josh has claimed a recliner he and Bert had dragged in just an hour prior, making the cramped space even more closed-in. I had stolen Mikey’s previous placement on the couch, lying back with my head in Gerard’s lap. He runs a few fingers through my hair absently, a gesture I’m not even sure he realizes he’s making. Still, it’s relaxing regardless.

The old television pushed up against the far wall is playing Joy Ride. I’m not really paying much attention to the movie, though it’s nearly over by now, and I’ve even managed to mostly ignore Josh’s continuous claims that Paul Walker is better than the lead female role, not just because he has a nicer butt, but also because he thinks her acting is “a cruel punishment forced upon humanity.” Bert is arguing in favor of the girl’s rack.

My mind is wandering. Drowning out the film are thoughts of where I am right at this moment and what all got me here. Thinking back, only a few months before, everything was so different. I was fawning over a guy who I never thought would even notice me. I think about what might have happened if Zacky hadn’t taken notice of me that one day, seeming so long ago now. What if he hadn’t invited me to Synyster’s party? I would have spent the night at Mikey’s house, eating my weight in cookie dough and then passed out after he sympathetically let me win a few video games. I wouldn’t have had sex with Zacky, I never would have gotten pregnant. Or maybe I would have met someone else. The initial hurt of being rejected by Zacky would have worn off, and then what? I would have moved on, like I’m trying to do now.

I look up at Gerard. He’s focused on the movie, his fingers still moving slowly through my hair. Would I have gotten this close to him if being with Zacky never happened? Gerard never would have teased me about being pregnant or driven me to Atlantic city for the tests. But somehow, I still feel drawn to the idea of having him there. If Zacky had never pushed me away from Gerard in the first place, we could have been friends long ago. Maybe more…

And then suddenly another thought hits me as hard as a brick and I can’t seem to get it out of my head; If being with Zacky had never happened, maybe the babies would have been Gerard’s instead.

He looks down at me, almost like he’s just heard the thought, too. But he hasn’t. The thought is still snuggled safely into the confines of my mind, though Gerard quirks an eyebrow curiously. There’s a small smile playing on the corners of his lips. I want to look away, feeling slightly embarrassed to be caught staring, but I can’t make myself move. I swallow hard, looking up at him. “Are you okay?” He asks.

I don’t really know what to tell him. I try to shake my head no, but a nod forces it’s way forward and I do this weird circular motion with my head. I want to punch myself in the face. I bite down on my lip and sigh. After a second of silent contemplation, I shrug.

Gerard’s smile falters a little and he glances once at the others before standing up, making me sit up in the process. He grabs my hand and pulls me off of the sofa, across the small room and into the bedroom. Inside and alone, he closes the door. The television’s volume is muted now through the door. Gerard turns to me, his brow furrowing with concern. “Seriously, you look kinda freaked out,” He tells me. “Are you okay?”

I bite down so hard on my lip, I taste blood. Ignoring it, I meet Gerard’s eyes. “I don’t know,” I admit. I sit down hard on the bed. It squeaks softly at the sudden weight and I try not to imagine what it will sound like when I’m further along in the pregnancy. “I was thinking.” I don’t say anymore. It’s a feat to get that much out because now that the thought is planted like a seed in my brain, it’s growing. It’s morphing and changing and somehow staying the same;  _What if it had been Gerard rather than Zacky? What if Gerard had been the father instead?_

Gerard takes a few steps forward and sits down next to me. I try not to think about how close he is to me. “Thinking about what?”

I sigh again, looking down at my clasped hands as they wring in my lap. “Zacky.” I pause and my voice lowers. “And you…” Gerard waits silently and after what must only be seconds, I look up to find him watching me with an unreadable expression. I don’t want to delve into my thoughts of  _what if_ , when thinking about what  _could_ have happened doesn’t change what  _did_ happen. It’s pointless. And staring into Gerard’s deep hazel eyes, I wouldn’t be able to form words if I tried. So I decide fuck it, and lean into him.

He makes a soft surprised noise when my lips collide with his, but he doesn’t argue. Within an instant, he’s kissing me back, like an instinct takes over both of us and we’re acting on nothing more than that single urge. His hand comes to rest on my cheek, and then curling around the back of my neck to pull us even closer. I feel the desire twisting in my stomach and for a split second I’m afraid I’m going to throw up again, but the feeling settles in and I realize it’s something different. It’s not the terror of falling in love that’s knotting in my gut, it’s the excitement of it. I push Gerard back, careful not to break the contact of his mouth moving steadily against mine. He seems unsure as I push him to lie back on the mattress, but I run my tongue along his lower lip and suddenly he forgets why he was hesitating and my mouth is filled with his keening moan, a whimpering plea that sounds so loud in my ears, tantalizing and addicting as it reverberates through me. His hands are gripping at my shirt, pulling me against him. I swing a leg over, coming to straddle his thighs, and kiss him harder.

My mind seems to empty. Everything, all of my thoughts of Zacky fading into blackness as Gerard takes over. I can’t think of anything other than the pressure of his fingertips on my back, the taste of his tongue on my lips. He breaks the kiss, our now heavy breaths mixing in the silence of the room. His hazel eyes lock with mine and I can’t deny the brilliant gleam in them that seems even more visible in the dim light. His bottom lip, shiny and slick, shakes when it bites down on it. His forehead rests against mine. I can see the internal battle he’s having when he opens his mouth and then closes it again without a word. I can almost hear the words he wants to say, but some part of him is telling him to stay silent and he sighs.

Pressing my lips once again to his, I smile. “Say it,” I command.

Gerard lets out a soft laugh and his eyes narrow. “I thought you weren’t ready to hear it.”

“You’ve already said it twice,” I remind him. My hands twist in the front of his shirt and I run the fabric between two fingers. “And I think I like hearing you say it.”

Gerard chews on his lip for a second longer, contemplating this, before smirking up at me. His voice is whispered, barely even audible over the pounding in my ears, but it rushes through me like a wildfire when he says it. “I love you.” No sooner are the words out of his mouth, he runs a hand through my hair, shaking his head, looking nervous. “I know you’re scared, Frank. And I’m not asking you to say it back. I know you’re not ready.”

I smile down at him because, yes he’s right-- I’m terrified of falling again like I fell for Zacky. But in the same moment, he’s wrong-- I think I’m already falling hard and I don’t care if I hit the ground right now because at this second, the view is amazing. I open my mouth, fully prepared to admit those three words that are filling my head, but before I can speak the door swings open and I hear Josh behind me instead. “I totally called it! You owe me twenty bucks, motherfucker!”

And then Bert’s response as he shoves into the doorway as well. “They’re making out? Dammit! Mikey, they’re making out!”

Mikey appears just behind Bert with a bored expression. “Eww.”

I sigh and climb-- or rather fall-- off of Gerard, landing on the mattress before sliding off the bed. Along with the slight embarrassment at being caught skipping the movie to sneak off and kiss Gerard, comes the realization that my friends were in the other room betting on it.

“I think we need to talk about your gambling problem,” I inform Josh as I move past him into the main room.

He follows me and shrugs, unbothered. “Ray and Bob are back. They were looking for you.”

I frown. I had managed to forget my blood work in the past few hours and now Josh was bringing it up again, practically waving it in my face like a neon sign. “Did they say anything?”

“Other than, ‘ _hey, we’re looking for Frank_ _’_?” Josh shakes his head. “Nope. But they went back to Ray’s room.”

I nod. Knowing I should probably go ask what they found out, I find myself instead going back into the bedroom in search of Mikey. He’s sitting on the bed now across from his brother. Mikey’s eyes are narrowed, his brow furrowed, while Gerard looks innocently back. It’s like some weird conversation using entirely facial expressions and I stand back for a second, trying to decipher the code. But when Gerard sighs heavily and his shoulders slump forward as he grumbles “I know, okay?” I give up. It’s some weird brotherly communication and I never learned the language since I was an only child. Mikey smiles and pats his brother’s head once, then stands up to face me. Somehow, he seems to understand my presence immediately. He offers a grimace and nods toward the door. “You ready?”

I shakes my head no, but lead the way regardless. It doesn’t matter if I’m ready or not, I need to see what Ray and Bob found out.

The apartment Gerard and Ray share is at the far end of the hall near the stairs. It’s bigger than the others for the simple fact of the extra equipment inside. Instead of one bedroom, it has two. The second bedroom is set up with an uncomfortable bed I’m pretty sure they actually stole from a hospital, complete with sterile white sheets, and a few computer systems I couldn’t figure out how to work if I tried. Ray had explained vaguely that this room would be my “hospital and laboratory” where he would conduct my check ups, ultrasounds, and even run some tests on various samples. It was smaller than an actual hospital, but no less terrifying.

When Mikey and I enter this time, it’s no different. Bob is sitting on the bed, now pushed against the far wall, his legs swinging in the air as he talks into a cell phone. “No, two g’s. Yes, Baggins. Like the fictional character. No, first name Frodo. Lady, does it sound like I’m joking?” He rolls his eyes and I decide it’s easier to turn my attention to Ray. He’s set up at one of the various computers, typing in a few numbers and letters; He could be translating the unabridged dictionary into Russian for all I know, but I like to think it’s something more fascinating and important.

“Hey!” Ray notices Mikey and I, suddenly forgetting his online duties and turning in his seat to face us. He smiles. “How are you feeling?”

“Been better,” I admit. I nod in Bob’s direction questioningly. “Who is he talking to?”

“Hospital,” Ray replies, glancing over at Bob who is now rolling his eyes in a continuous gesture. I’m nearly convinced that if they go any farther back, he’ll see his brain. “He’s trying to get you an appointment set up.”

I look over at Mikey, who is just as confused as I am. “Appointment? In public? For what? I thought we had everything we need here.”

“All the necessities,” Ray admits. He offers a shrug that seems none too promising. “But I don’t think we can fit a CT scanner through the door, at least not without raising a hell of a lot of suspicion.”

My eyes widen and I think I swallow my tongue because I can’t find words for a minute. Luckily, Mikey seems to be on the same wavelength, only with better diction and an ability to speak. “CT scanner? Why?”

Ray waves a hand in the air, a fluttery gesture that looks about as promising as his shrug. “We ran your blood,” He says. “And… It’s weird. Your DNA is like nothing I’ve ever seen before. There’s something in it--”

He cuts himself off, saying nothing more. I try to be patient, but waiting is not my strong point and I find myself gaping at him. “Something like what?”

Ray bites down on his lip. For the first time, he really looks unsure. “I don’t know. That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” He sighs softly and waves a hand toward Bob. “A CATscan can give us more insight into what’s actually going on inside. How the babies are actually surviving-- If you’ve got all male parts, you shouldn’t have a uterus or ovaries or any of that shit that can actually support a life inside you. And next to cutting you open like a frog in a tenth grade bio class, this is the best option we’ve got.”

I flinch at his words, but I know he’s right. I place a hand gently over my stomach and frown just as Bob exclaims, “Thank fuck!” He jumps down from his perch on the bed and saunters over to us, the cell phone closed and hanging uselessly in his grasp. “It took some string-pulling without a direct order from a doctor, but we’ve got an appointment for a CT scan tomorrow morning.”

I shake my head, my eyes so wide I’m scared they might fall out. “No. That’s a public hospital. They’ll get my records and then the reporters will know I’m here in Akron.”

Bob holds up his phone, as if showing me the device will somehow stop the media from wanting to eat me alive. He smiles. “No they won’t, because the appointment is not for Frank Oreo--”

“Iero,” I correct dryly, a pure instinct by now. I don’t really care how he pronounces the surname, I no longer claim it.

Bob waves me off. “Whatever. The appointment is for Frodo Baggins. So there’s no chance of your whereabouts getting back to anyone. According to Akron General Hospital, you are a fictional character who just needs a routine CATscan.”

I bite down gently on my lip, thinking about it. He’s right, I suppose. But there’s still part of me that doesn’t want to trust him, that thinks he’s going to throw me to the wolves as soon as he’s sufficiently fucked me over. But right at this moment, I don’t have a choice. So I settle with a nod, hoping like hell that this works.

**A/N: I know, updates are few and far between for now, but I’m trying. I’ve had zero inspiration to write anything, but I finally got this out so yay!**

**Also, a small update on my computer issues; I HAVE ORDERED A NEW LAPTOP! I went to Best Buy last night and spent like two hours wandering around the store and pissing off the employees, trying to decide what I wanted, if I wanted to buy it in-store or order online, factoring in tax to make sure I had enough in my account, all that jazz. And in the end, I decided on a 2-in-1 tablet/laptop which is basically awesome. But they literally sold the last one while I was spending two hours deciding. So they ordered me one and it should be there in a few days (hopefully) and then I can get back to writing more often! I’ll probably spend a few days figuring out how to work the thing, but whatever. I hope having something new to write on will give me more motivation to write….**

**Fucking love you. xoRachel**


	47. Chapter FortySeven

“I’m not wearing that.” I fold my arms across my chest defiantly, glowering at the outfit Josh has lying across the bed for me. I turn to Mikey for some help, gesturing with one hand to the clothing. “Please tell Josh I’m not wearing that.”

Mikey grimaces and looks over at Josh, shrugging uselessly.

Huffing out a sigh, my frown deepens. “Where the hell did you even get a dress?”

“I bought it when I got your other maternity stuff.” Josh explains. He looks down at the dress, studying the floral fabric. “Look, who is going to recognize you if you wear a dress?”

I look over to Mikey again, hoping for some support here because there is NO WAY IN HELL I’M WEARING A FLOWERED DRESS. But Mikey is watching me already, and his expression is not reassuring. “Josh is right,” He admits. “No one will recognize you.” But before I can yell at him, he shifts his gaze to Josh. “But Frank is right, too. This is bound to call attention. Isn’t there something less obvious he can wear?”

Josh looks dejected when he sighs in defeat. “Fine. But it’s a pretty fucking dress and if you’re not going to wear it, I am.” He grabs the dress off the bed and holds it up in front of himself. Against his pale skin and blue hair, it somehow looks like it could fit. Still, Josh’s attire is not my concern right now.

“Thank you.” I run one hand through my hair and place the other on my stomach. It’s growling right now, demanding food, but Bob had reminded me a few times now that I couldn’t eat until after the CTscan. Ray promised he would get me Taco Bell as soon as it was over. “Now what am I supposed to wear?”

Mikey goes to the dresser on the far wall of the bedroom, now overflowing with various maternity shirts and jeans of different sizes. He rifles through a few pairs until he finds a pair that looks about my size, tossing them to me and pulling free a sweatshirt. Simple black. Nothing to draw attention to make me look different from any other man at the hospital. On the outside, at least. On the inside was a completely different story.

The hospital is lively, even at six o’clock in the morning. The parking lot is fuller than I thought it would be, though I can’t tell the difference between employees cars and visitors. The sun is only barely beginning to show over the distant horizon, the entire building looking gray under the dull orange light. Ray and Bob climb out of the car first, both looking determined and sure in their movements. I envy them, their ability to act like this is completely normal. My heart is pounding against my chest as soon as I slide out of the backseat. Gerard is on one side of me, Mikey on my other. When I glance up, they’re looking at each other, seeming to have one of their silent conversations again. This time, it annoys me that I can’t understand.

“What?” I demand. I look between the two of them. Mikey quirks an eyebrow at Gerard and his eyes flash to me for a split second. Gerard returns this with a frown and sighs softly before his gaze shifts to me.

“Bob told us that no one is allowed to go in with you,” He blurts out. It takes me a second to comprehend his words and then I look over to Mikey to see him frowning down at me. I can’t do this alone. I’m already freaking out and we’re still in the parking lot. How am I supposed to do this alone?!

“Don’t worry, Frankie,” Mikey says, trying his best to sound calm. There’s an edge of discontent in his voice and I can tell he’s not happy about leaving me alone either. “We’re going to be on the other side of the wall, okay? Literally just through the glass. We’ll be able to see you the whole time and Bob said there’s an intercom inside the machine. You’ll be able to hear us.”

Somehow, this doesn’t ease my nerves. I feel Gerard’s hand slip into mine, squeezing once. I try to focus on the way his fingers feel between mine, his strong and sure while mine shake slightly. I swallow hard, forcing a nod. “Okay.”

Inside, we follow Bob to the front desk. There’s a smiling nurse with yellow sunshine scrubs on. Bob talks to her as I glance around the large room. It’s empty aside from an old couple sitting along the far wall. They lean close together, the man saying something though it looks like the woman is asleep. When she looks up, her eyes are red and she has a tissue clutched in her hand.

I’ve always hated hospitals. They reek of cleaning supplies, too sterile to be calming. The smell of bleach too strong to just be for washing. It’s like the stench of it will clean everything away, including the diseased presence that infects every hallway, each and every room both presently occupied and now abandoned. It smells clean, but it feels like death. Cold. Icy even. I hug the sweatshirt closer and pretend I don’t feel the shiver that races up my spine.

I’m still watching the old couple when Gerard tugs on my hand. “Frank?” I look up to see we’re alone. “Everything okay?”

I nod, even though it’s a lie. “I don’t like hospitals,” I admit. I brush the pad of my thumb across Gerard’s knuckles and smile up at him. He just looks back, not saying anything. I lean up, pressing my lips to his for only a second. It’s enough to have my heart racing again, but in a different way. From nerves, yes, but not fear. It calms me and when I pull back, Gerard is smiling, too. I have that urge again, the twisting knot in my stomach, and I open my mouth to tell him exactly how grateful I am for him, but before I can speak, Mikey appears at my side. “Are you coming, or do you guys plan on just making out?”

I take a deep breath and let it out. Personally, I would prefer to just make out, but I know that wouldn’t help the babies at all, and so I nod and allow Mikey to lead me down the hall. Near the end of the long corridor, there are two separate doors each labeled “Computed Tomography.” Mikey points to the first. “Ray is waiting for you in there,” He informs me. “Remember, we’re just on the other side of the glass.” He offers me a quick smile that looks more like a grimace, and then disappears into the second room.

Gerard pulls me into a hug and then holds me back far enough so he can reach between us and place his hand flat against my stomach. I almost expect something cheesy and cliche to happen, like for the babies to kick hard enough for Gerard to feel it, but all that I feel is the hunger for food. My stomach growls loud enough for Gerard to hear. He laughs. “Bob said it will only take like half an hour tops, then we can go feed little Melvis and Diamond.” He smirks, but I cringe at the names. Gerard notices, chuckling. “We can work on names then, too.”

With a dejected sigh, I push the door open. The room inside is a vapid white, nearly blinding under the fluorescent glow of the overhead lights. Ray is standing near a big white tube looking machine. On the left, the wall is replaced with a huge glass window. I see Bob sitting at what looks like a control panel and I can’t help but compare him to some evil mastermind as he pushes a few buttons and adjusts a couple monitors. Gerard and Mikey stand slightly behind him, both looking agitated. Mikey fidgets on his feet. Gerard sees me and smiles once.

“Okay, we’re all set over here.” Bob’s voice sounds over an intercom, seeming muffled and a little staticky, but the professional tone reassures me just a bit. Ray gives him a thumbs up and then motions for me to join him. Hesitantly, I take a few steps forward.

“You’ll need to change into this,” He says as he hands me a hospital gown. It’s white, like everything else in the room. He pretends not to notice the embarrassed flush of my cheeks while I strip down to my boxers and slip the gown on. He helps me climb onto the long table-looking part of the machine and then motions to a speaker inside. “If you need anything, just say so. We’re right here. Try to lay still. Relax. It won’t hurt.”

I nod, taking another breath. Ray smiles reassuringly and flicks a switch on the side of the machine, making the table I’m lying on shift abruptly. I automatically stiffen, bracing myself to the machine to swallow me whole. And it does, the table sliding into the large tunneled section, encompassing me in the mechanical tube. It takes a few moments after the machine stops that I hear their voices. “Alright, Frodo. It’s pretty simple,” Bob tells me through the speaker. “We’re going to start the x-ray now. You’ll probably hear a little buzzing, but it’s just the scanner. Ready?”

I don’t feel ready, but I also don’t see much more of an option, and settle with an unsure, “Yeah.” The machine starts buzzing, just as Bob said. I can hear the voices, faint as they speak in the background. I close my eyes, pretending to be anywhere but here. I let the serenity of their voices drift around me, not able to make out words, though the simple hum of noise is enough. I keep my breathing even.

A few minutes pass quietly before Ray’s voice penetrates my calm state. “No, dude. There’s no fucking way.”

“It’s right here,” Bob argues. He doesn’t sound happy and his words are followed by a second of tense silence.

“There’s no way…” It’s Ray again. The disbelief shows in his voice. Something is wrong.

“Guys?” I try to keep the fear out of my voice, but it shakes regardless. “Guys, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” It’s a chorus response, each of their voices chiming in on the single word.

“Bullshit,” I spit. “Tell me.”

There’s a collective sigh. I can imagine them looking at each other, trying to silently decide if they should tell me. And then Ray speaks again. “Nothing is wrong,” He informs me, but it sounds like a lie. “It’s just… The measurements are different.” I wait for him to elaborate. When he doesn’t, it’s Bob’s voice I hear.

“We’re almost done here,” He says, which isn’t really an answer to my question, but I accept it as long as it means getting out of this machine soon. “We’ll show you when you’re out.”

The next few minutes pass in rigid silence. No more muffled, faint voices. Just dead air. When the machine stops humming and the table slides out, I let loose a relieved breath I wasn’t really aware I had been holding. Ray is waiting outside the machine with my clothes. There’s a discontent air about him and it worries me, though he just says, “We’re right outside when you’re done,” and then leaves the room.

I change quickly and when I emerge from the room, the others are waiting in the hallway. They’re huddled close, looking at images I can’t see. As I come closer to look, Bob frowns. He holds them out for me to see, though I’m not really sure what I’m looking at. “This is the boy,” He explains, pointing a finger to a gray patch, and then shifting the motion lower. “And the girl. You see the white line around them? That’s the uterus.”

I shake my head, not understanding. Why is this weird? Besides the obvious fact that I should not have a uterus, it looks pretty normal. Not that I have any insight into what a usual uterus looks like. “And?”

Bob glances over at Ray for only a second, sharing some secretive conversational look I don’t comprehend. It’s like suddenly everybody knows this fucking eye language and I’m the only one who doesn’t know how to speak it. “You should not have a uterus, Frodo. But what’s even weirder is that it’s growing with them. Not stretching, but... I think somehow, your body is building it. It’s like your body is actually growing these spare parts that you need to support a life inside of you.”

I can only watch him like he’s crazy because… Well, this is fucking crazy. Insane batshit crazy. “That’s not possible,” I finally manage to say.

Ray quirks an eyebrow at me. “Think about it, Frank. It kind of makes sense. I saw your DNA, there’s something extra in it. Something that’s making it possible for all of this to happen.”

“Something extra, like what?” I demand. I cross my arms defiantly and glare at him. “Did I get bitten by a radioactive spider or something?”

“I actually looked into that,” Bob speaks up. When I gape at him, he rolls his eyes. “Not the radioactive spider thing, but the blood. I have a theory… Look, do you know what sex chromosomes are?”

There’s a vague memory, I think. I remember hearing about them in Biology, but that seems like forever ago now. “Maybe,” I decide. “They decide the gender, right?”

Bob nods. “Women have two X chromosomes. Men have X and Y. But you don’t. I didn’t believe it at first, but I sent it to a lab on campus to have it rechecked and it came back the same. I thought maybe you were intersex, with XXY chromosomes, which would kind of explain it a little, but there weren’t just X and Y. There were things in your blood I’ve never seen before. Things no one has seen before. As far as I could tell, you have six X chromosomes and four Y. Other than that, it looks like there could be as many as twelve other unidentified chromosomes that don’t match either male or female.”

I don’t believe him, to be utterly honest. He’s fucking with me. But the crease between his eyebrows shows me just how serious he is and suddenly I can’t breathe. Bert was right, I am some sort of alien life-form. I’m breeding extraterrestrials! I try to recall any memory from Biology class, anything at all.

“No,” I shake my head. “No, that’s not possible. Anyone with more than three sex chromosomes would be dead.”

“ _Should_  be,” Bob corrects. “And yet somehow, here you are.” He scratches his beard, frowning again. “I think that those extra chromosomes are making the whole pregnancy thing possible. Those chromosomes are making your body able to carry the babies, shifting and growing to accommodate them.” He pauses for only a moment, allowing me a second to let it all sink in. It makes sense in a way that shouldn’t make sense at all. And then he has a short eye conversation with Ray again before saying, “That’s not the only thing we saw.”

“Holy hell…” I mutter because of-fucking-course there had to be more.

“We took a few more measurements of the twins,” Ray explains. He wrings his hands in front of himself, grimacing. “And it looks like they’re growing. Fast. Faster than they should be.”

I bite down on my lip, trying to decipher from his expression if I should be concerned or relieved. “How fast?”

Ray shrugs, a gesture that seems too unsure for my liking. “When we took measurements a week ago, they were right on track with growth. Maybe a little big, but still in average range. But our measurements today look even bigger. You’re barely fifteen weeks along and the twins look like they’re already in week seventeen growth. And two weeks doesn’t sound like a lot of time, but it is. If Bob and I are right… We think the extra chromosomes in your DNA are accelerating the pregnancy. They’re like extra nourishment boosts that are helping them grow faster.” Ray pauses and glances nervously at Bob. “And it might get even faster.”

“Holy shit…” I mumble. I keep imagining the scene in Seed Of Chucky when Jennifer gets impregnated and wakes up the next morning looking like she swallowed a fucking watermelon. Accelerated pregnancy. Holy shit, I really am having the seed of Chucky. “How fast?” I ask again. I swallow down the lump in my throat that seems stuck there. I feel sick and I’m silently grateful I didn’t have breakfast, otherwise it might be strewn across the hospital floor right now. “How accelerated is my pregnancy going to be?”

Bob and Ray exchange a few long glances and silent shrugs. “There’s no telling for sure,” Bob finally admits. “You should have twenty-five weeks left, but at this rate… Maybe fifteen or twenty. Maybe less.”

Fifteen to twenty weeks left until the twins are born. I place a hand on my stomach, seeming to only now notice how big it’s gotten in the past few weeks. It’s rounded out, even under the loose fabric of the hoodie I wear. It’s painfully obvious what’s underneath the layers of skin and muscle. I feel someone flutter when I push down a little, poking them. I’m not ready for this. It’s not just the fear of the unknown-- the terrifying realization that I really am some type of science freak of nature, the still horrific theories about how they’ll actually be born-- but there’s more. I don’t have anything ready for them, not even a place to call home. Or names. A single item of clothing or a baby bottle. Absolutely nothing. How the hell did I ever think I could actually pull this off? I’m a sixteen year old boy who’s never even taken a parenting class. I’m not ready to be a dad.

But then I imagine them, a little boy and a girl with my hazel eyes and soft brown hair. I imagine them coming into this world and I realize I don’t have a choice. They’re coming, whether I’m ready or not. And maybe they won’t have anything else, but I’m going to make damn sure they have me.


	48. ThgieYtrofRetpahc

It feels degrading and embarrassing and quite frankly, it’s kind of rude. It’s like he’s undressing me with his eyes and no amount of covering up or cringing away is going to make it stop. Still, I shift under his scrutiny. Mikey continues to watch me. His lips are pressed into a flat line, his eyes narrowed slightly. A few long moments pass before he says anything. “Do you need a condom?”

My face flushes bright red. I hate Mikey, he’s the worst friend in the entire world. “No, I don’t need a fucking condom.”

One of his eyebrows quirks in silent question. “Are you sure? You’re probably going to need a condom.”

Offended and even more embarrassed, I glower at him. When I’d asked him ten minutes ago if he would mind sharing a room with Ray, and in return letting Gerard room with me, I was sort of expecting “the talk.” Still, it’s not any less annoying. “Yes, I’m sure. Dude, I’m not having sex with your brother.”

“Yeah…” Mikey nods slowly, only going along with it for a second before deciding I’m full of shit. “You’re going to need a condom.” Folding my arms across my chest, I shift on my feet again. “Look, it’s weird,” Mikey continues. “But I get it. If you want to have sex with my brother, then you have my permission. But you’re going to need a condom.”

“For the love of Pete Wentz, Mikey, I am not fucking Gerard!” Of course, that wasn’t completely a lie. It was true that I was not currently, or had previously had sex with Gerard. But tonight I plan on changing that. Still, I was not giving Mikey the satisfaction of knowing he’s right.

“I’m pretty sure Bert has condoms,” Mikey says, choosing to ignore my arguments. “I’ll ask him for one. You only need one, right? I should get more, just in case. You can’t get pregnant again, right? You’re already pregnant so having sex again can’t like create more babies… Right?”

In all honesty, I hadn’t thought of that. Can I get pregnant-er? Is that possible? Then I realize that it shouldn’t have been possible to get pregnant in the first place and frown at Mikey. “Fine. I think I need a condom.”

Now Mikey grimaces. “That’s so gross. You and my brother… That’s weird.”

“We’ve already established it’s weird,” I point out.

“Well yeah, but this is even weirder.” Mikey sighs, watching me carefully. “Like, I knew he liked you. But now you like him back. And now you want to sex him up. Like… You’re like my brother. And he is my brother. That’s like my brothers are fucking.”

That kind of makes sense, and my frown deepens. “You’re practically my brother, Mikes,” I admit. “But Gerard is not. Gerard is like…” I pause, trying to think of some way to describe what Gerard is. I never saw him in a brother sense, but the other terms I can find don’t explain it nearly enough. First he was a friend and then he was… Gerard. Just Gerard. My boyfriend? That seems like such a loose term to explain it, so informal. Childish, almost. I remember the way my heart used to race when I thought of Zacky as my boyfriend, the excitement and nerves, but the term doesn’t fit Gerard at all. My lover? I cringe and sigh. “He’s just Gee, you know?”

Mikey continues watching me, visibly trying to understand. Eventually he nods. “Yeah. I get it. But it’s still kind of weird.”

I simply settle with a shrug. I know he’s right. In the days passed since my visit to the hospital, I’ve spent most of the time alone. I shut myself away in the bedroom Mikey and I shared, only letting him in at nights to go to sleep, and I always made sure to feign sleep before he came in. Real sleep didn’t come easy anymore, but I didn’t want Mikey to worry. Gerard had come in a few times to check on me, but my responses were half-hearted. I didn’t want to see anyone. I spent the few days I had alone trying to make sense of everything. And, even if I hadn’t come to much of a conclusion about the twins, I had decided what I would do about Gerard. I needed him and I was falling in love and yet I was blowing up like a balloon carrying two alien kids. I was already visibly showing and soon enough, I wouldn’t be able to see my own toes. In just a matter of time, I would deliver them-- in a way to yet be decided-- and then what? Bob would go on about his life, finishing college and probably boasting about doctoring the first pregnant male. Ray would go back to whatever school he was attending, forgetting about my existence if not for the random memories all circulating around the aforementioned pregnancy experience. Mikey, Josh, and Bert had to go back home to their families and finish out whatever remaining years of High School. And Gerard… I didn’t want to think about him leaving me, too, though I knew all too well that it was inevitable. He would go away to college in New York or Jersey and pretend like I’d never existed. If I was lucky, we would keep in touch for a few months, through text or phone calls, but even those would dissipate and eventually stop altogether.

So tonight, I was going to make it count. Before I gained another fifty pounds or brought two children into the world, I was going to make Gerard see how much I needed him. Maybe it wouldn’t persuade him to stay, but hopefully it will make it harder for him to leave. I was willing to do anything to keep him within my grasps for just a little bit longer because he was the best thing I ever had. I don’t know why it took me so long to realize it, but when I did, I kept hating myself. I kept repeating it in my head like a mantra.

_Fuck Zacky. It should have been Gerard._

Gerard should have been my first, he should have been the one I was with that first night instead of Zacky. And I knew that being with him tonight wouldn’t change what had already happened, but somehow I kept imagining it could. If I have sex with Gerard, maybe he’ll be able to erase where Zacky had ever been. Where his hands skim over my skin, Zacky’s faded touch will disappear. Every ounce of DNA that the babies carry would trace back to Gerard and I, leaving Zacky just a memory lost in the background of my mind. And so when I’d cornered Mikey and asked him if I could share a room with Gerard, it was with that thought pegging me. I’d already made up my mind and there was no changing it. Tonight, I would have Gerard in every way possible.

When Mikey gave me the condoms a few hours later-- left sitting on my pillow with a scribbled note that read “Be careful”-- I figured I had his approval to continue the night as planned.

It was near nine when Gerard finally came into the apartment. The others had left me alone when I feigned a headache, each scurrying off to their separate apartments, and I’m lying back on the couch watching Freddy Versus Jason when Gerard comes in. “Hey,” He offers a crooked smile, sitting down as I shift to make room for him on the sofa next to me. “Is it okay if I sleep in here tonight? Mikey and Ray kind of kicked me out of my room. Mikey said they wanted some alone time.” He grimaces, probably imagining what that must mean his brother is doing tonight with his friend. Honestly, I hadn’t given much thought as to what Ray and Mikey’s activities would be when I asked them to kick Gerard out. “I can sleep on the couch if you want.”

I roll my eyes at Gerard’s offer, slithering closer to him. “Don’t be ridiculous,” I laugh. “It’s not like we’ve never shared a bed before.”

“I know.” Gerard shrugs, watching me with a slight frown. He lifts his arm for me to fit myself beside him, but his body feels kind of rigid next to my own. “It’s just…” He shifts once, pivoting so he’s facing me. “You’ve been kind of MIA since our visit to the hospital. And I get it. It’s a lot to take in, it’s happening really fast. I just wanted to leave you alone if that’s what you wanted.”

I feel a smile forming on my lips and I can’t fight against the urge to lean closer, kissing him softly. “And what if I don’t want to be alone right now?” I ask.

I feel Gerard’s smile curve against my lips, his fingers coming up to trail across my jaw. It sends sparks igniting within me, deep in my chest and shivering in rising goosebumps across my skin. It’s so innocent, so very different from every other kiss I shared with Zacky. The thought has the blood in my veins pulling faster, racing and heating up. I hate Zacky, I hate everything he ever did to me, every inch of me that he ever touched, and I just want the lingering feel of his fingertips to wash away. I want Gerard to replace him, retrace all of my body that Zacky ever touched and more.

The thoughts seem to push my movements onward and I lean into Gerard, deepening the kiss. I slide my tongue along his lower lip, swallowing the very taste of him. My hands knot in the front of his shirt. I find myself crawling even closer, moving to settle myself in his lap, my legs on either side of his thighs. When I press forward, I try to ignore the way my stomach protrudes between us, and focus on grinding my hips into his. A moan escapes him, a desperate sound that seems keen and lewd all at once, demanding and pleading all in one single noise. And that noise is enough for me to unfist my hands from his shirt and trail them lower. I relish in the feel of his body beneath my own, curved and perfect in mesmerizing ways. I realize I want to brush my fingertips along every inch of him, taste his skin, more than just his tongue. I break my lips away, trailing my kisses along his jaw and sucking on his neck. His breathing is ragged, uneven.

I push my hands under the hem of his shirt, allowing my nails to dig down into his hips and dragging him closer. It’s when I start to fumble with the button of his jeans that his hands wrap around my shaking ones. “Frankie…” He says. It’s not a moan, not a plea for more. The single word sounds choked and Gerard swallows hard before shaking his head and pulling back a bit, his hands still holding mine in place. I can hear it in his voice already when he sighs, “I can’t…”

He’s rejecting me.

I keep my face where it is, buried in his neck. I can feel his pulse against my lips though they no longer move. The beat in his heart remains the same fast pace. I swallow down my pride and my fears and kiss his neck again. He writhes against me, his head falling back as a low breath escapes him. “I want this,” I admit, my lips continuing to slide across his skin. It tastes slightly salty, but with a sweet undertone. It’s an addicting flavor, something I need right now.

I feel Gerard swallow again. It’s a long moment before he can speak. “Fuck, Frank. I want it, too.” One of his hands wanders up my chest to caress my cheek. His fingers are slow but sure when he tips my head toward himself and kisses my lips softly. “I want you more than anything,” He tells me.

I take this as approval, letting my hands drop lower, managing this time to unsnap the button. The tips of my fingers slip below the waist of his jeans, brushing against the coarse hair I feel just underneath. Gerard shivers. He inhales and pulls back again, his hazel eyes meeting mine. “I want to do this,” He repeats. “But… It feels wrong.”

My face screws up and I find myself watching him with a frown tugging down on my lips, my brow furrowed, eyes narrowed. What the hell does he mean, it feels wrong? It feels right, so fucking right. I think he can feel my growing rightness through my sweatpants, pressing against what I thought was his own rightness.

Gerard offers a small smile, brushing a few fingers through my hair, letting them trail against the curve of my jaw and even farther to trace over my lower lip. “I love you,” He says. And just like before, it makes my heart accelerate even more than our currently stalled activities. “And I know what you’re doing--”

“I’m trying fuck you,” I interrupt, my voice coming out a little harsher than intended.

Gerard’s smile doesn’t falter. If anything, it seems to grow just a little bigger as he smirks at me. “You’re trying to forget Zacky. You’re trying to forget _everything_. The pregnancy and what he did to you and…” He pauses, the pad of his thumb running across my cheek once more. “As much as I want this, I want to wait even more. So that it’s perfect.”

I bite down hard on my tongue, hating the surge of pain I feel, not at the physical act but the impact the words have on me. Because I know he’s right. “You want me now,” I say. It’s not a question anymore. “In four months, I’m going to weigh like seven hundred pounds. And then two aliens are going to force their way out of my ass. Face it, Gee-- You won’t want me later.”

Gerard looks hurt, but my scowl stays in place. It’s the only way I can hold back the tears I feel swelling in my chest. “You’re perfect, Frank. And seven hundred pounds or two kids isn’t going to make me want you any less.”

I want to kiss him and kick him all at once and I settle with biting down on my lip for a minute. There’s a wetness in my eyes I try to blink back. “But you want me now,” I argue. It’s a weak protest, I already feel defeated. My mind wanders to the condoms I have tucked safely into the dresser beside my bed. I frown. I guess they’ll be there for awhile, waiting.

Gerard kisses me. It’s soft and sweet and then he’s catching my gaze again. “I want to wait until we both want it. Not because we feel like there’s not enough time, or because we’re both horny, or because you want to erase your ex-boyfriend from existence.” His voice drops even lower and it’s only a pained breath, like it’s an effort to say the few words. “I’m not Zacky. I really do love you.”

And for some reason, this pisses me off. If he loves me, he should be willing to have sex with me, right? So I glare at him again, demanding, “And what if I love you, too?”

I think Gerard knew I was going to say this, but his eyes light up anyway. He smiles at me. I’m still seated on his lap and one of his hands has linked around the back of my neck, his fingers tugging gently on the stray hairs that hang there. “Then you’ll wait,” He says. “Frankie, make me a promise, okay?”

I don’t know why, but I nod. Right now, I’d promise him the fucking moon if it would make him happy.

“Promise me,” He says. “That after all of this shit is over-- The babies are born and we’ve found a permanent place to stay-- if you still want to be with me, we will be together. Completely and totally, in every single way. But not until after the twins are born.”

I shake my head now. “You won’t want me then,” I accuse. No one will want to be with a teenage dad, especially one who had the kids himself. A single parent at the age of sixteen. Gerard won’t want those kind of strings to tie him down when he’s got the world on a platter, his for the taking. He’s got his entire life ahead of him-- college and his art and having a freak boyfriend and two kids to support won’t be the best option by far.

“Please,” Gerard says again. He sounds desperate, begging almost. A hopeful smile seems permanent on his lips. “Promise me. Because I want you and me and Diamond and Melvis to be together. And I know you want this tonight, but I want it for a lot longer than that. So promise me that if you have the kids and decide you still want me to be around, that we will be together.”

Staring into his flecked gold and green eyes, I don’t see anything but pure honesty, unadulterated hope. And I can’t help but actually believe that he means this, he wants me and the twins as a package deal, not just for tonight. So I swallow hard against the lump in my throat and nod, a hesitant motion at first before it becomes fervent. I lean into him, wrapping both arms around his neck. My stomach presses against his chest, but he doesn’t complain. We stay like that for a few minutes, just clinging to each other. And then abruptly, I pull away. My eyes narrow at him and I’m aware there are tears collecting along the waterline, but I don’t care. “You said _we_ ,” I realize. “You said when _we’ve_ found a permanent place to stay.”

Gerard smiles up at me. He looks kind of shy when he shrugs. “I want to be with you,” He says again. “As long as you want me around, I want to be there.”

I find myself shaking my head again. “No. Gerard, what about you? What about college in New York? Or making your own comic book? I’ve already made my decision and I’m keeping the kids, but I don’t want to be the one holding you back--”

My words are cut off when Gerard’s lips collide with mine again. It lasts only a second and then he pulls back, grinning. “There are art schools everywhere. New York isn’t any more special than Chicago or Akron or anywhere else. _You_ are special to me.” His hand comes to rest on my stomach, bulged between our two bodies. “ _They_ are special.” He chuckles breathlessly, biting down on his lip.

In the mass of all the shit that’s piling up to my nipples-- the evasion of inconsiderate media, the abandonment from my parents and Zacky, the way every person I met seemed to be using me in some way-- it’s this sentence that makes the waterworks start. I feel the tears finally stream over, after holding them back for what feels like all too long. It’s this one statement that makes me realize that I’m not alone-- Gerard is here. He always has been and maybe he always will be. I lean into him again, burying my face in the crook of his neck. His arms wrap tightly around my waist, holding me close to him. “I wish it had been you,” I admit. It feels like a weight has been lifted off my chest, saying aloud what had been pegging my mind for days. “I wish it had been you instead of Zacky.”

I’m only sort of scared of what Gerard’s response might be to this, but mostly I’m past the point of caring, so it surprises me and makes me cling tighter to him when he kisses my neck softly and lets out a slow exhale. “I know.”

We end up falling asleep curled together on the couch. When I wake up, I’m lying half on Gerard, my leg falling off the sofa with his arm. His neck is craned at a weird angle. Somehow, he still managed to get one of his hands resting flat against my stomach. I can’t tell exactly what time it is, but it feels early. Gerard’s breathing stays even in my ear and I slowly pull my leg back up onto the sofa, trying my best not to wake him up. In spite of my efforts, he mumbles something and then goes back to snoring quietly. There’s no blanket and a draft carries through the room, but I feel warm enough tangled with Gerard. I snuggle closer, closing my eyes. The twins are starting to flutter about more often and I can feel them brush every once and awhile against my insides. This morning, they’re restless. I can’t tell what motion is coming from who, but I can feel them.

I watch Gerard’s hand on my stomach for a long moment before resting my own next to it. When I do, I feel it. It’s a quick, swift motion, but undeniable. It’s a soft rise and fall as someone kicks up, hard enough for me to feel the pressure against the palm of my hand. I wonder if Gerard could feel it, too. I start to ask, but realize he’s still asleep soundly beneath me, and settle with smiling down at my stomach. And I know, with the lingering sensation of the first kick against my palm, that I’m making the right choice in this. I’m making the right choice with Gerard. Because he was right last night; What we had went farther than just one night, or even a few hook-ups. It was something I’ve never felt before, even with Zacky. And it sounded cheesy and stupid to say it was true love or soulmates or whatever, but with my head on his chest and his hand on my stomach, no matter how cheesy and stupid it sounded, it felt right.


	49. 49 I think?

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I stare at Gerard from across the small wooden table, incredulous. I have a mug before my lips, pausing just before the decaf drink actually reaches my mouth, which currently hangs agape.

Gerard looks amused, sipping his own coffee before shrugging. “I’m just saying, Dave Grohl is kind of a musical god. He plays like every instrument known to man _and_ he can sing.”

Taking a deep breath, I set my mug down on the table. Then I narrow my eyes at Gerard. “He can sing,” I admit. “But every Foo Fighters song sounds the same. Nirvana is obviously the superior band, and not just because Kurt’s voice is a million times better. Which it definitely is.”

“No arguments there,” Gerard nods and swallows down another steaming gulp. “Kurt Cobain had something raw about him, Dave is too refined. But he’s so much more musically versatile, which is fucking cool. He could be an entire band by himself.”

I chew on my lip for a second and then sigh again. “That’s true. But Nirvana is still better.”

“Clearly.” Gerard and I drink quietly for only a second before the serenity is shattered by the front door to the apartment crashing open, followed instantly by Mikey’s voice.

“You two better be wearing clothes!” He announces and when he rounds the corner into the kitchen, feeling his way along, I see he’s covering his eyes with one hand.

“We are both fully clothed,” I inform him.

Mikey slowly lowers his hand, looking relieved when he sees I’m telling the truth. He glances between us for a long minute, his gaze seeming both intrusive and rude as it settles on me and then his brother. “You guys used the condom, right?”

I feel my face turn red and I glare at Mikey while Gerard’s eyes widen at the question. “Fucking hell, Mikes,” I groan. “There’s this thing called privacy.”

Mikey looks unfazed. He shrugs and claims the empty chair to my right. “You’re the one that asked me for a condom in the first place.” He grabs my coffee, taking a drink and then grimacing. “It’s decaf,” He states.

“I’m sixteen weeks pregnant,” I remind him, gesturing to my ever-growing stomach as though he didn’t already know. “Ray said caffeine was okay on occasion, but it makes them move around a lot and they were already kind of restless this morning.”

Mikey grins at the statement. He abandons my coffee on the table and his full attention is on me. “You feel them?”

I nod. “Inside mostly,” I say. “It’s weird. But this morning I felt them on the outside.”

Mikey beams again. He leans in closer and puts his hand on my stomach, pushing down a bit. Nothing happens for a minute and Mikey frowns. “I don’t feel them. Dammit, Frankie! I want to feel them kick!”

I chuckle and shrug. “I can’t make them kick if they don’t want to.”

Sighing dejectedly, Mikey retrieves his hand. “Have you been thinking of names?”

Another uncertain shrug from me. “I don’t know,” I admit. “I mean, I don’t want to call them Melvis and Diamond, but nothing seems fitting, you know? They’re special. They need special names.”

“You could always revert back to the baby name book,” Gerard suggests, but the smug smile on his lips reminds me of how we wound up with Melivis and Diamond in the first place.

I groan, rolling my eyes. “The name book was about as helpful as Mikey.”

“Hey!” Mikey throws his arms up, looking offended. “I was helpful! More helpful than Bert and Josh at least.”

The mention of the others surprises me. Since I had spent the past week keeping myself company in the otherwise vacant apartment, I hadn’t seen much of anyone. “Where are they anyway?” I wonder.

Mikey glances over at Gerard before answering. “They just got back last night.”

I wasn’t aware they had left. “Just got back from where?”

Another glance at Gerard. Gerard looks down into his coffee, seeming intrigued suddenly by the drink. I realize something is up. “Okay,” I sigh heavily. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” Mikey replies. He smiles.

“Then why won’t you tell me where Josh and Bert went?” I narrow my eyes. Mikey doesn’t seem affected by my glare, his smirk staying in place.

“Because it’s a surprise.” Mikey jumps up and grabs my hand, pulling me up with him. My stomach bumps the table, some of my coffee spilling over the brim of the mug. Gerard follows, seeming unsurprised by whatever Mikey is wanting to show me.

“It’s nothing bad, I swear,” Gerard promises me when we reach the hallway outside the small apartment.

I want to ask again just what the surprise is, but figure that no matter how many times I ask, they won’t tell me. I settle with a sigh instead and follow them quietly. We pass by the door to the room Josh and Bert share, farther down the third floor hall. On the farthest end, opposite of the room Ray claims, is where we stop. It’s not occupied by one of us as far as I know, but Mikey produces a key and unlocks the apartment, pushing the door open and standing aside for me to enter.

Inside, the apartment is laid out the same as most of the others on this floor. A single main room with adjoining kitchen, a door to the right leading to the one bedroom and a door on the left showing the bathroom. But unlike my own apartment, this one is void of all furniture. Instead, the main room is set up with various cardboard boxes, each one labeled on the side with a number. Bert is kneeling in front of one stack of boxes near the bathroom, reading off the labels as Josh stands to the side with a clipboard, making notes. They both look up when we enter.

Everyone watches me, waiting for a reaction. But with the boxes closed, I have no idea what I’m looking at. Finally, Josh steps forward. He raises his arms in a sweeping gesture, grinning. “Surprise!”

I’m quiet for a moment longer. “Um… What the hell is this?”

“Come here!” Josh waves his arm at me now, beckoning me over. I abide, going to his side. I watch as he opens one box, labeled on the side with a “G. 0-4m.” Inside is filled with pink. So much pink. Clothes, from the look of it. I glance at Josh, who nods enthusiastically at my unspoken question, and then reach in to pull something out. When it’s in my hands, I see what fills the box. On top is a tiny pink onesie, flowers and bows adorning the front. Beneath that is another piece of clothing of the same style, more pink, but the front reads “Daddy’s little princess” in swirly black letters.

My mouth falls open but I can’t seem to speak. I look over to Josh who is still beaming. “There’s so much more,” He tells me. He folds the flaps on the box again and moves it aside to reveal a box labeled “B. 3-4T.” Inside that is a mess of blue and green clothes, all bigger than the previous boxes contents. I pull out a shirt that has a racecar and flames, then another that has a picture of Nemo.

“We separated all of the clothes,” Josh explains, pointing a finger to the label on the side of the box. “We can put the bigger clothes away until the twins grow into them. And the toys are over there.” He swings his arm around to point on the opposite wall. Those boxes are labeled, too.

I feel confused, unsure, and my head is spinning. I can’t seem to grasp exactly what he’s telling me. My mouth feels dry when I shake my head. “What the hell is all this?”

Josh smiles again, not quite as brilliant as before. “Think of it as your baby shower,” He says. He shrugs, glancing at the others.

Mikey steps forward. “It was Bert’s idea, actually,” He tells me. “But Josh was the one who got it set up back home with Matt and Andrew.”

Now Gerard comes to stand beside me. He smiles, looking around at the boxes and the others before his gaze comes back to rest on me. “Some of the groups supporting you have come forward,” He explains. “They want to help you and the twins, but we figured it would be safer to have a go-between so they didn’t deal directly with you. Matt and Andrew have been collecting donations for weeks and they’re coming from all over, not just Jersey. Donations go to Matt, and then Bert and Josh picked up the stuff to bring here.”

I look around the room again, amazed at the amount of boxes stacked around us. “All of this stuff was donated for me?”

Josh nods fervently, grinning. “That’s not even the best part!” He exclaims. He grabs my arm and drags me over to the bedroom. I peer inside and my breath halts. A baby crib is set up along the far wall. Next to that is a rocking chair, and across from that a changing table. “It took Bert and I three hours to get it set up, but we did it.”

“Someone donated that?” I can’t look away from the crib. It’s beautiful, a dark-- almost black-- wood, lined on the inside with green and yellow sheets. A few stuffed animals are set up, too.

“Actually no,” Josh says. He sighs. “But we bought it with the money people donated.”

I feel close to tears when I turn to them, each of my friends watching me with proud smiles, and frown. I shake my head, letting loose a heavy exhale of breath. “Give it all back,” I command. “All of it.”

Everyone stops. They just stare at me. I continue to glare. Gerard is the first to find words. “What?”

“I don’t fucking want it!” I yell. I fold my arms defensively across my chest, scowling. “I’m a charity case. I don’t want that! I can’t accept all of this!”

“Yes you can,” Josh laughs. “Look, Sugar Lips, in case you missed it; Bert and I spent three hours on that fucking crib.”

“I don’t care,” I state. “I don’t want it. I’m sick of feeling useless. I have been relying on you guys for weeks, but I’m not accepting this stuff from a bunch of strangers.”

Josh watches me for a long minute before narrowing his eyes. “Are you PMSing?”

My mouth falls open again and my anger deflates. My lip starts to quiver and I curse the tears that begin to build in my eyes. “Fuck you, Josh.”

“Oh shit,” Josh looks terrified all of a sudden. “I’m sorry, okay? Please don’t cry, Frankie.” He takes a step forward, his hands out, palms open. He sighs, letting his head fall forward. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. You’re not PMSing. You’re just… emotional. Pregnant people are emotional right? It’s all those hormones or some shit.”

But now that the tears have started, they’re flowing freely down my cheeks. He’s right; I’m very emotional. There’s a rational part of my mind that’s reminding me that crying because people are giving me gifts is not a logical response, but I can’t stop. I try to take a calming breath, but end up just making this weird sobbing hiccup noise.

“No, no, no, no, no…” Josh is repeating the word like a mantra, like the repetition will make me calm down. “Please don’t cry. Shit…”

He takes another step and encompasses me in his arms. He presses my head to his chest and we rock back and forth. “Don’t cry, Poptart. Please. Shhh…” He pushes a hand through my hair and we continue swaying. After a moment, I find myself making more hiccupy sounds. Josh must think that I’m sobbing again because I’m pressed even harder against his chest.

I push back, bringing both hands up to wipe my eyes. I shake my head and laugh again. “I hate you,” I tell him. “You’re a fucking jerk.” But I’m smiling, and Josh returns the gesture warily. I swallow hard, looking back at the others. They’re all staring at me, looking uncertain and concerned, but none of them move. “I’m emotional,” I admit. “And I’m probably PMSing. But guys, I don’t want to be a charity case.”

“Frank,” Mikey says. “You are a charity case.” He looks around at the boxes, seeming impressed. He smiles sadly. “People want to help you and, as much as your pride hurts to admit it; You need all the help you can get with this. You can’t do it alone. Is it really so bad to just accept it?”

It sucks to hear it, but the words resonate in my mind. I am a charity case, but I’m not doing this for me. I’m doing this for the twins. If I don’t accept the help that everyone is offering me, I’ll be lost. Alone. And I don’t want that, not now that I finally have a real family surrounding me. So after a long silence, I nod. “Okay,” I agree. “I need all the help I can get."

 


	50. The Kids Aren't Alright

“Are we almost done?” I fidget again on the uncomfortable bed. My stomach is fluttering with life and caffeine, having downed about a gallon of coffee before the ultrasound. Ray suggested doing so since it would make the kids restless and we’d be able to see them actually move. And I could see the little gray and black and white lines shimmering on the monitor's screen as the twins flitted around, but I could also feel the coffee beginning to weigh heavy on my bladder.

“Just getting some measurements,” Bob replies. He’s moving the probe around on my stomach, pressing down and making the urge to pee even stronger. I wonder if he would hold it against me if I peed on his stolen hospital cot... “Hold still, Frodo.”

“I have to piss.” I squirm again.

Bob mutters a bit in response, but continues with his business. He reads off a few numbers to Ray, who inputs them into the computer. They talk, communicating with some words I don’t understand about “amniotic fluid” and “make sure you check the uterine wall again, I think I saw something.”

Eventually, Bob seems satisfied with his measurements. He turns his attention to me and says, “Do you want the good news or the bad news?”

I stop fidgeting. “Bad news?” It feels like my heart sinks. Peeing is the last thing on my mind suddenly. There’s something wrong with the twins.

“Not bad news,” Ray intervenes calmly. “Just… News.” I wait silently. Bob removes the probe from my stomach, tossing me a towel to wipe off the gel. I do, and then sit up. I look over at the two of them. “Everything seems fine,” Ray tells me. He flicks a couple of switches on the monitor, the screen going black. “Both babies are healthy. That’s the good news. The other news is that they’re growing faster.” He hands over a list of numbers that makes no sense to me. He points to one column of figures. “This is average growth for twins at seventeen weeks, which is what you are. And this--” He points to the second column. “This is what your twins are measuring at. Right now, they’re showing at about twenty-one weeks. They’re weighing in at around a pound each, which is normal.”

I want to snort and tell him that none of this is normal, but I’m more focused on his measurements instead. “They’re only a pound each?” Ray nods. I frown. “What the hell? I’ve gained like thirty fucking pounds, how are they only a pound each?”

Ray chuckles. “Not all of the weight you gain goes directly to the babies,” He explains. “Some of it is held as fat, or amniotic fluid--”

The mention of fluid has me remembering my swollen bladder and the urge to pee is back. I groan and stumble off the bed, moving as fast as I can to the bathroom. At least it isn’t morning sickness, I remind myself.

When I come out of the bathroom, Ray and Bob have finished cleaning up the makeshift hospital room. The monitors and computers are pushed along the far wall once again and the middle of the floor is bare. In the main room, I find Ray looking over figures collected from the ultrasound. When he sees me, he holds out a new sonogram. “I figured you might want another,” He says with a smile. He points to a white area on the left, what I recognize now as a head. “The girl,” He tells me. And then he moves his finger to the head on the right. “And the boy. They’re coming along fast. Have you decided on names yet?”

I frown, shaking my head. “No,” I admit. “Nothing seems good enough for them.”

“You should ask Gerard,” Ray suggests. “He named my pet ferret when we were kids.”

“Oh yeah?” I want to ask more about the ferret, but decide that is probably not the point. “What did he name it?”

“Ferret Bueller.” Ray frowns. “Okay, the name was horrible, but we thought it was hilarious at the time. Maybe you should ask Mikey for help instead.”

I laugh. “Maybe I’ll wait until the kids are born,” I decide. “When they’re like thirty, they can pick their own names.”

Ray nods, his hair bouncing along in agreement. “I hope that works for you. We can just call them “Hey You” and “No, the other twin” until they choose their names.”

I nod, too. “Exactly.”

Two hours later, Gerard and I have taken up refuge on the couch in what I consider now to be our shared apartment. I sit at one end of the sofa, my legs strewn across the length of the middle cushion to rest my feet in Gerard’s lap, where he sits at the other end. I wring a water bottle in my hands, my head back. Gerard holds the dreaded baby name book, flipping through every so often to different pages.

“Teagan. Tegwen. Temperance.” Gerard’s voice is monotone by now and he doesn’t even pause to allow me time to express my distaste for every name in turn. It’s pointless, I’ve decided. The name book is no more helpful than before. We would be just as well off to try pulling names out of a hat. I take a drink of my water and then screw the cap back on, dropping it onto the floor. I let my hands come to rest on my stomach, rubbing in circles atop the fitted black Tshirt. “Tenley. Tequila. Teri…”

“Try a different letter,” I command. The T’s are getting us nowhere and the redundant beginning sound is starting to echo obnoxiously in my ears.

Gerard hums quietly and flips the book shut, opening it again on a random page. “Lavender. Layla. Leah…”

I groan, letting my head fall back again. I feel Gerard’s reassuring touch on my leg as he runs a few fingers across my calf. “We can take a break,” He suggests.

I sit up and shake my head. “Keep going.”

Gerard finds a new page. “Eleanor. Electra. Elena.” He pauses and looks up then, tilting his head to one side. “Elena is kind of pretty.”

I run the name through my head a few times, saying it aloud. “Elena…” I like the way it feels rolling off my tongue, but it doesn’t feel quite right. Still, it’s better than Diamond. I chew on my lip for a second longer. “Maybe.”

Gerard nods. “Elias. Elisha. Eliza…”

I feel a nudge in my stomach, my hand pressed flat against the expanding area. I leap forward instantly, on my knees in a second in front of Gerard. I grab his hand and bring it closer, pushing it to my stomach. Nothing happens for a second, the air filled with only silence, and then the baby kicks again. Gerard’s mouth falls open and his eyes meet mine.

I grin. “Did you feel it?”

He seems unable to form words for a minute, just nodding. “Holy shit,” He says then, a simple exhale of breath. He looks awed, his eyes gleaming. A smile works it’s way onto his face. “I felt them. Holy shit, I felt them.”

He looks down at my stomach. My gaze follows his to the bulging belly under my black shirt, his hand resting under my own, his palm settled where the baby just moved. His thumb strokes across the fabric of my shirt, like a little wave in response to the kick. When I look back up to Gerard, his eyes are on mine. He leans in, capturing my lips in a grin-filled kiss. It doesn’t last more than a few seconds with us both smiling like idiots and then I’m pulling back.

“Eliza,” I repeat. The last name he read off. “Eliza... Lizzie.” I gaze down at my stomach. It feels right, it feels as though she had been kicking in response to the name. I couldn’t be sure it was even her kicking, or if maybe it had been the boy instead, but when I meet Gerard’s eyes, something about it just feels right. “That’s the one. Her name. Eliza.”

“Lizzie Way,” Gerard says. He’s nodding slowly. His one hand is still on my stomach, but the other finds my own, his fingers intertwining with mine. He smiles. “It’s perfect.”

**[A/N: It’s a shorter chapter than the others, but THEY HAVE OFFICIALLY DECIDED ON ONE OF THE NAMES. Woo!!! The boy’s name will be decided in the next! And yes, we are nearing an end on this book, but it’s not over yet. We still have to get the babies out of Frank. You’ll find out how exactly that will happen soon….**

**Fucking love you. xoRachel]**


	51. Five. One.

“So are you, like… _Gay_?”

Josh’s movements cease, his fingers wrapped around a toddler size green dress, and looks up at me like the question is a foreign concept to him. “Gay?”

Suddenly I feel like it was a stupid question in the first place, but I’m quite curious. I feel even stupider for not knowing the sexuality of one of my best friends. But I’ve known him since I was thirteen and I’ve never known him to be interested in anyone. So I shrug, shifting on the sofa which seems exceptionally uncomfortable right at this moment. The box of donated clothing set between us shifts with my motion. “Well are you? I thought you were gay because honestly like fifty percent of everyone at Belleville High is gay. But I’ve never seen you with a guy. Are you like… Half gay?”

Josh laughs, still looking puzzled and somewhat amused. “Half gay?”

I let out a short breath and frown, narrowing my eyes a bit. “Are you just going to repeat every question I ask?”

“Until you stop asking stupid questions, probably.” Josh laughs again, shaking his head. He finishes folding the little dress, setting it into a box to the left. Then he turns on the sofa to face me fully, his blue eyes still gleaming with some small amount of humor. “If you’re asking if I like dick, the answer is no. The only dick I like is your personality.” The minute smile on his face shows me he’s kidding, but I stick my tongue out.

“That didn’t answer my question, though,” I say when he goes back to sorting through the newest donations. “So you’re not gay. You’re straight?”

Josh glances at me sideways and shakes his head. “Hell no.”

I throw my arms up in the air, nearly knocking over the box between us. “Then what the hell are you?!”

Josh makes eye contact again and slowly says, “A. Sex. U. Al.”

“Asexual?” I feel my brow furrow. “Well what the hell is that?”

Instead of answering me, Josh holds up another dress, this one speckled with purple and pink and yellow flowers. “This is pretty, right? I would wear this if it was my size. Wouldn’t you totally wear this is if was your size?”

I cock my head to one side, raising an eyebrow. “Probably not,” I admit.

“But it’s pretty, right?” Josh repeats.

“Yeah,” I nod. “I think it’s pretty.”

“But even though it’s pretty,” Josh continues, looking down to fold the dress. “You don’t want to wear it. Why not?”

“Because… I’m not really interested in wearing dresses.”

Josh picks up another article of small clothing and begins folding. When he sets it into another box, he looks up at me, smiling. “People are pretty,” He explains. “But just because I think people are pretty doesn’t mean I’m interested in having sex with them.”

I let his words sink in while he continues folding and sorting. “Oh…” is all I say, because that actually makes sense. Feeling just a little bit more understanding of Josh, we finish sorting the donations and he jumps up to find another box to start on, but when he sits back down I groan. “I don’t know how you’ve been doing all this.”

Josh shrugs and pulls the flaps of the box open. “I want to help,” He says. “I like helping. And someone needs to get it done before next month.”

Next month? Fuck, I don’t even know what this month is. “What’s next month?”

Josh looks up, frowning. He looks nothing less than apologetic. “August. Sweetie, next month is August.”

“August…” I repeat. I find myself frowning, too, as realization hits me. “School starts in August. You and Mikey are leaving next month… Everyone is leaving next month.” I feel my heart sink, my stomach feeling upset. The motion of the twins swimming about in whatever inside bodily fluids surround them is no longer calming, as it has been for the last week. It nauseates me even further right now.

Mikey and Josh have to go back, starting their Junior years. Ray and Bob must have college courses to get back to. Bert… Hell if I know what Bert is doing with his life, but I can only assume it will be far away from me. And Gerard… Fuck, Gerard. Even if he’s not going off to New York, he’s still destined for college somewhere. Regardless of how close he’ll be going, I’ll still be left alone. I don’t even want to consider my own schooling options, or the uproar I’m sure will ensue in the media if my name shows up on some Ecot roster in northern Ohio. I can’t just accept that I’ve unofficially dropped out of High School, but I barely passed my Sophomore year-- I’m sure that juggling two infants during two more years of school won’t be easy.

Josh interrupts my thoughts by poking a finger at my stomach. I can see it bulge a little in response, someone inside kicking his jabs. He smiles. “We’ll figure something out,” He promises, but he seems to be talking more to the twins than me. “You know Gerard is taking a gap year--” But the look on my face when he glances up at me makes him pause. “Okay, you didn’t know that. Well, Frankie-- Gerard is taking a gap year. He hasn’t technically been accepted anywhere yet, granted he’s been too busy to actually apply to any college aside from New York and that was a bust. Plus, Bob and Ray will be here as long as you need them-- At least until the babies are born, and Ray keeps talking about being the kids’ doctor and he’s even thinking about changing his major to pediatrics because of this, so I think you’re stuck with him whether you like it or not. And as for Mikey…” Josh shuts up quickly, biting down on his lip. He grimaces. “I wasn’t actually supposed to mention this until he got everything figured out for sure, but he’s trying to convince his mom to let him homeschool from here, at least for now, and then he’ll transfer back to Belleville to finish out the year. She hasn’t said yes yet, which is why he hasn’t told you, but we think she’s going to let him stay.”

I take in a deep breath, letting all of that sink in. But then I frown. “What about you?”

Josh nods slowly and his lips twist up-- Not exactly a frown, but definitely not a smile. “I have to leave,” He says. “My parents were cool with me taking a summer trip to the middle of fucking nowhere, but they want me back in time for school.” In just a second, though, he’s grinning again. “Bert promised he would finish filming for me, so if he’s constantly up your ass with the camera then just know that it was for me, okay? And I’ll be back here as soon as humanly fucking possible once the babies are born because they need to know their favorite Uncle Josh.” He pokes my stomach again, earning another twist and kick from one of the kids.

…

Two hours and seven boxes of kids clothing later, Josh announces that it’s time for a  much needed break-- I had already taken six breaks to pee, eat, and complain about my back hurting, but now Josh was breaking, too. I take the time to wander around the third floor searching for Mikey. I don’t find him. Instead, I find Gerard in our apartment on the phone with his mom. I wait patiently in the kitchen for him to finish, downing an entire bottle of Gatorade and opening a second when Gerard hangs up and comes into the small room.

“Where’s your brother?” I wonder as he jumps up to sit on the counter beside the stove. “I want him to play poker with me.”

Gerard’s head tilts to the side when he steals my drink and takes a sip. “Do you even know how to play poker?”

“Of course not,” I shake my head. “That’s why I need Mikey to teach me.”

Gerard chuckles. “Ray and Mikey went to meet up with Matt and Andrew to collect more donations. They won’t be back for a few days.”

Almost involuntarily, I find myself frowning. “How come they’re allowed to go out?” And I don’t really expect an answer because I know why-- Ray and Mikey aren’t obviously pregnant, as I am. No one will look at them twice. They’re normal. Normal people can go out in public without being gawked at. I am not normal. Still, I sigh and lean against the counter opposite Gerard. “It’s not fucking fair,” I state. “I want to go outside. I want to go further than the fucking balcony, which is more a fire escape than a real balcony, by the way. I want to go out. Can we go to the movies? Movie theaters are dark. No one will see me.”

Gerard gestures vaguely in the direction of the living room. “We have a shit ton of movies here.”

“It’s not the same,” I argue. I’m well aware that I sound like a sulking child, even folding my arms tautly across my chest and glaring at him.

Gerard offers me a pitying twitch of his lips that’s almost half of a smile. “I know.” He jumps down off the counter and wraps his arms around me. I feel his breath on my neck when he exhales. I relax into his touch, letting my head come to rest on his shoulder. “I know you hate being stuck in here, but it will be better after the twins are born.”

I pull away at that and give him a bewildered look. “Will it?” I demand. “My face is still plastered on every fucking news channel from here to Mars. Even if I don’t look like I inhaled an entire balloon, they still know who I am.”

“They’re starting to move on,” Gerard tells me. “My mom said that reporters aren’t hounding your parents much anymore and they’ve completely stopped running that footage of Dr. Webb. They’re actually starting to think it was all a hoax to begin with. Frank, as soon as the kids are born, we’re changing your name. Legally. You won’t be an Iero anymore. You’re gonna be Frank Way and the media doesn’t give a fuck about Frank Way. All of this is gonna blow over, okay? And then we’ll be able to have a normal fucking life. Just you and me and the twins.”

And with that gleam of hope in Gerard’s bright hazel eyes, I can’t doubt him. I don’t have a choice but to believe what he’s telling me because he has to be right. I don’t think I’ll be able to keep going if he’s wrong.

…

I go to bed early that night, alone as Gerard said he needed to talk to Bert about something, but it feels like as soon as I fall asleep, the mattress is sinking lower beside me. Figuring it’s just Gerard coming to bed, I shuffle a little closer. But he doesn’t lie down next to me. Instead, I feel his hand on my shoulder, shaking, as he whispers, “Wake up, Frank. Good morning, Fraaaaank.”

I groan in annoyance but open my eyes to glare up at him. The room is dark but I can vaguely make out the outline of his body. “Frank is sleeping,” I grumble. “You better be preparing to give me a blowjob, otherwise fuck off and let me sleep.”

Gerard’s chuckle is soft in the silence of the room. He leans a little closer. “I have a surprise for you.”

“Better be a blowjob, asshole.” I bury my face in the pillow and fight to stay coherent enough to at least be bitchy about him waking me up.

But when Gerard leans closer this time, his words jolt me awake faster than any amount of sex could. “You know what’s better than a blowjob? A blowjob outside at midnight.”

I sit up quickly. I can see a bit more of him this time, my eyes adjusting slowly to the surrounding darkness, but I can tell he’s grinning. “Are you serious?”

I think I see him nod. “Yeah. Come on, but be quiet.”

I stumble out of bed, blinding finding a pair of sweatpants and a shirt to pull on, almost forgetting to grab shoes before I’m following Gerard out of the small apartment. I kind of expect him to stop halfway down the stairs and say, “Haha just kidding. You can’t go outside!” but we make it to the exit without opposition. I follow Gerard to his car, parked in the lot next to the decrepit brick building.

When we’re both safely inside the vehicle, Gerard starting to pull out onto the street, I get the courage to ask, “So where are we going?”

It doesn’t really matter to me-- Simply being outside is enough. The streets are dark aside from the spaced out lampposts, lighting just a few feet in each direction. The sky is almost completely black, dotted with both bright and dull white stars.

Gerard smirks over at me. “It’s a surprise, “He repeats, but reaches over to lace his fingers through mine. Holding his hand and gazing out the window, feeling the fresh breeze on my face, is more than enough.

Twenty minutes later, the car begins slowing. I hadn’t really been paying attention to where we were going, simply enjoying the ride, but now I look around. Trees scatter the edge of the parking lot where Gerard pulls the car into a vacant space. My gaze follows a rickety-looking wooden fence around the perimeter of the lot, toward a dirt path twisting through more trees, past that to a creaking swingset and metal slide. I look then to Gerard, a smile falling on my lips. “A playground?”

“It gets better, I promise.” Gerard scrambles out of the car, leaving me no choice but to follow. The summer air feels nice on my skin, only slightly warmer than the summer nights in Jersey. Gerard is scavenging for something in his trunk and when it slams shut, I see he’s holding a backpack and flashlight. He flicks on the flashlight, tossing the bag over his shoulder. With a smile, he holds a hand out for me. I take it and he begins leading me toward the dirt path.

We walk for only a few minutes before the path splits and Gerard leads me down the trail that goes right. Through there, it opens up. The trees become more sparse and there’s a wide space covered in grass. Gerard drops my hand and unzips the backpack, turning it over and allowing the contents to come spilling out. He grabs a plaid blanket first, spreading it out on the ground. Next he collects what I realize a moment later are candles. He sets them up, lighting each one in turn, and then turns off the flashlight.

Gerard opens his arms in a gesture to the blanket. “Ta-da! Surprise! I know it’s kind of lame and cheesy, but we can’t really have a normal date while you look 22 weeks pregnant, so this is the best I could manage.”

I take a step toward him, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him against me. I kiss him softly. “This is perfect. Better than perfect. This is… Fuck, this is amazing. I love this.” I hesitate. My heart is beating against my chest. My hands are twisted behind his neck and his dark eyes are reflecting back the candlelight flickering around us. My mouth feels dry suddenly and I run my tongue across my lower lip before biting down on it, allowing my words to escape as no more than a mere whisper in the wind. “I love you, Gerard.”

His lips stretch into a grin before they’re colliding with mine again. Sweet and serene, I allow myself to settle into the moment because there is no doubt in my mind that I’ve already fallen for Gerard, but he’s going to be there to catch me no matter what.

When we lie down on the blanket together, I watch the stars while Gerard exclaims, “Oh, one more thing!” before pulling his cell phone free from his pocket. He swipes and clicks and a few seconds later, a thirty second ad is playing. Silence follows and then soft guitar. I recognize the tune a few beats in as The Ramones’ ‘ _I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend_.’

I chuckle softly, curling into Gerard’s side. “Are you trying to ask me something, Gee?”

I feel Gerard’s body shake a bit when he laughs, too. His fingers twist in mine, his thumb stroking across my knuckles. “Maybe,” He muses. “If we want to take this the conventional route, I can fidget nervously and stutter out something along the lines of, ‘Hey Frank, we’ve known each other for awhile now. Do you think maybe we could go steady?’ while avoiding eye contact at all costs.”

“This turned into a 50’s romance film all of a sudden,” I laugh. I sit up, leaning over Gerard. I kiss him once, just a brush of the lips. “I don’t want to be your boyfriend,” I admit. Another soft kiss. “I want to be more than that.” One more kiss, this one lasting longer than the others. There’s a vague noise of agreement from Gerard, but as soon as his mouth is open to speak, I’m shoving my tongue in and that noise of agreement is transformed instantly into a moan. One hand reaches up, tangling in my hair, tugging gently before pressing me closer to him.

I faintly realize when the song changes in the background, switching to another, slower tune. It registers around the second verse as ‘ _Miss Misery_ ’ and I sit up abruptly. Gerard’s brow furrows, looking concerned at my sudden reaction. He swallows hard. “Are you okay?”

“Miss Misery,” I state and the point a finger to his phone. “Who is this by?”

Gerard goes “umm…” for a second, trying to clear his head enough to answer my random question. Verifying my thoughts, he says, “Elliott Smith, right? What’s wrong?”

“Elliott…” I repeat. I listen as the ending tabs play and then grab the phone and click the repeat song button. It starts over. I look up at Gerard and smile. “Elliott. Elliott and Lizzie Way.”

Slowly, Gerard nods. “Elliott Way. I love it.” He places a hand on my stomach, allowing it to rest on the bump for a minute longer before linking his arm around my waist and pulling me closer to him.

We kiss again, messy and full of smiles because we’ve finally accomplished this much; The twins actually have names.

It doesn’t take long for the kisses to melt into something sweeter and then from there into something hot. Soon enough, Gerard and I are both panting messes, breathing hard and gasping, grasping for something more, but neither of us wanting to be the first to push it just a little farther.

Eventually, we both team up to make that push. I move first, swinging my leg over Gerard’s body, shifting so I’m straddling his waist. I break the kiss long enough to ask, “This okay?” I’m kind of nervous that he’ll ask me to move-- He’s made it clear that he doesn’t want sex yet. Maybe he doesn't want me sitting on him either.

But instead, Gerard bites his bottom lip and nods. His hands land on my hips. “Fuck, yes.” He nods again like verifying my position on top of him. _Yes, this is very okay._ I lean into him again, reattaching our kiss. Along with teeth and tongues and way too much spit, I rock my hips against Gerard’s. Maybe he doesn’t want sex but I sure as hell do, and there’s nothing wrong with getting off on dry-humping him, right?

Gerard’s hips move back against mine and I gasp when I realize just how hard he is against the inside of my thigh. My sweatpants are making it rather easy for my growing erection to make it’s presence known, but his jeans aren’t even on me and they feel too confining. I slide my lips down his neck, biting softly as I sink lower. My hands slip down, too, fumbling with the button of his jeans. My mind is thick with the keening noises and shallow breaths surrounding us-- Part of me knows I should stop, but part of me doesn’t care. I just want to feel the weight of his dick resting on my tongue, taste the bitterness as I swallowed him down. I wanted this, not only for me, but for him as well.

Gerard curses again when the button of his pants is popped open. I’m still kissing lower. I think Gerard realizes where I want this to go because he’s gasping suddenly, his hands on mine, and I fully expect him to tell me to stop, but instead his hands slip past mine. In an instant, his hand is pushing into my sweatpants. I gasp, letting loose a string of profanities that could rival a sailor’s when his hand wraps around me.

My mind goes blank. I forget completely what I was doing-- Was I kissing him? I was probably kissing him. I rest my forehead against Gerard’s and allow myself to arch into his touch. I want to kiss him again, but he’s stroking me slowly, making any of my actions stalled. I can barely remember how to breathe and even that is labored.

It feels like nothing I’ve ever experienced. Zacky gave me handjobs before, messy and quick and always returned soon after, if not before. But this, with Gerard, it’s so different. It feels basically the same, but not at all. Indescribable. My first time with Zacky was nerve wracking and terrifying, only adding to the thrumming of my heart. But now, I’m not nervous. I’m not scared. I’m excited and eager. This time, it’s not lust that’s being pulled through me. It’s something so much deeper because this isn’t just a handjob-- This is Gerard and I finally acting on what we feel. This is love. This is what making love feels like.

Gerard’s wrist flicks, his hand tightening and then loosening, his thumb sliding across the slit, the realization once more that I am completely in love with him, it all sends me over the edge way too soon. I find myself seeing white bursts in the corner of my vision, my mind wiping clean, and I feel myself tingling all over.

Beneath me, Gerard is breathing hard too. I realize too late that he got off on getting me off. I’m sort of disappointed that I didn’t get the watch him or touch him, bring him to the point of orgasm, watch him tip over, see his face as he comes down from his high. But this isn’t a one time thing, I remind myself. This will happen again.

His mouth finds mine. It’s not really a kiss so much as our lips simply touching, both of us feeling too exhausted and euphoric to do much more. “Love you, Frankie,” He mumbles against my mouth. “Fucking love you.”

I tug on his bottom lip with my teeth and smile, resting my forehead against his. I wait until he opens his eyes, seeing that same beautiful glimmer as before. “I love you, too.”

Gerard grins up at me. He slips his hand out of my pants, wiping the mess we made on the blanket beside him. He glances over for a second and I can see it in his face when the expression there changes. The smile vanishes instantly. He looks at his hand and the blanket to the space between our bodies, back to the blanket, and then his eyes find mine.

“Frank,” He says. I can hear the strain in just the one word. I feel sick suddenly, just as Gerard looks, when he shifts his gaze back to the mess on the blanket. I follow his eyes. On the gray blanket there’s the product of our previous activities, but instead of the off-white, clearish come that should be there, something else is mixing in, a dark red liquid tinting it and making it a pink color.

“Is that…” I trail off, unable to find my voice for a second. I can’t seem to look away, but I think I might throw up when I ask, “Is that blood?”

**[A/N: DUN DUN MOTHERFUCKIN DUN. SOMEONE CUE THE DRAMATIC MUSIC. THAT’S DRAMATIC, RIGHT? FRANK’S DICK IS BLEEDING. THAT’S DRAMATIC.**

**Anyways, they have decided on the second name! ELLIOTT AND LIZZE WAY. *Collective awww-ing from the comment section.***

**So I lost inspiration for this for awhile. I knew what I wanted to happen, but I just couldn’t seem to write it. But tonight, I did it. Yay for updates!**

**Fucking love you. xoRachel]**


	52. Wow, is this fic really 118k words? That's crazy.

“Are they answering?” My voice is wrecked and thick with tears. I feel like I’ve been deepthroating a chainsaw, the taste of iron strong on my tongue from biting my lip too hard.

Gerard shakes his head, looking over at me from his place in the driver’s seat. His knuckles are white, fingers wrapped too tightly around the steering wheel. He curses loudly and throws the cell phone onto the seat between us. “Does it still hurt?” His voice is strained, too, like he’s forcing himself to remain mostly calm when everything is falling apart around us.

I let loose another involuntary whimper of pain. My legs are pressed as tightly to my growing stomach as I can get them, my arms wrapped around my knees. There’s this stinging pain shooting through my insides, starting just below the waistline of my sweatpants and going up, spreading out in my stomach.

Gerard is watching me with wide, helpless eyes. I want to tell him to watch the road because the last thing we need right now is to get into a car accident, but I can’t form words. My mind is spinning and my stomach is twisting and all I can focus on is the pain.

After the realization hit both Gerard and I back at the playground that there was blood on the blanket, we acted with as much rationality as either of us could manage. It was freaky and scary to see the red mingling with the clear white byproduct of my orgasm-- It was neither normal nor reassuring to have my penis bleeding after a handjob. So we rushed back to the car and attempted to call Bob, tell him what the hell is happening and demand a reasonable explanation, but it was as I was climbing into the car that the pain started. It came out of nowhere and it felt like there were explosions of dynamite in my stomach, like someone gave the twins fireworks and it was the fourth of fucking July. After a minute, the pain subsided, leaving a dull ache in it’s place, and I felt numb as my lip quivered. But soon enough, the pain was back, hitting me like a brick to my sides and causing me to double over again as if someone had just punched me in the gut.

I could only think of the twins-- Either they were coming now, or we were losing them. It was as this thought hit me that I started crying. I could easily blame the tears on the physical toll it was taking on my body, but I knew the truth; I was scared for them. I couldn’t lose them, that much was obvious to me. I had grown to love them, they were mine, my babies. But at the same time, I wasn’t ready. I was nowhere near ready for them to come out, to actually hold two little children in my arms, to care for them like no one else would. And as we inched closer, second by second, to the apartments, this thought was the one that scared me the most; I thought I was ready for this, but I’m really really not.

“We’re almost there,” Gerard informs me. I’m sure that he’s breaking nearly every speed limit posted, but we’re the only car on the road at just past two in the morning, and with my stomach twisting in painful knots again, we can’t get back to the apartments fast enough.

Within five minutes, the car is screeching to a stop haphazardly across two parking spaces. Gerard jumps out, appearing on my side of the car in an instant, opening my door and helping me out. I’m not ready to stand up and I don’t feel like uncurling from my little ball, but I know that we have to get upstairs to Bob. We have to find out what’s wrong.

By the time we reach the bottom of the first set of stairs, the pain has subsided a bit. It becomes a dull ache in my lower back, almost like a vague memory of the sting it was before. I’m still shaking, leaning heavily against Gerard because I’m afraid my legs might decide to stop working on me, but I manage to make it to the third floor after stopping to catch my breath only twice.

The room Ray and Bob share is closest to the stairs, for which I’m grateful, and as soon as we reach the room, Gerard is pounding on the door. I press a hand against my stomach, physically trying to feel the babies inside, make sure they’re alright and not clawing their way out. I feel a bit of squirming in response and sigh softly at the sensation. Leaning against the wall, I hear someone moving around inside the apartment. Bob throws the door open a moment later. He blinks hazily a few times, running a tired hand through his messy hair, and looks between Gerard and I.

“What the hell are you--” Bob starts, but he’s interrupted when Gerard takes my hand and pushes past him in the doorway.

Suddenly, Gerard is talking a million miles a minute, spitting out the entire story of letting me go outside and the playground and handjob, the blood on the blanket and the spurts of pain in my stomach. He’s barely to the part about the bleeding when Bob steers me towards the back room. I’m cradling my stomach when he makes me lie down on the uncomfortable bed.

Gerard stands back, biting on his thumb nail, fidgeting nervously on his feet. Bob is checking my heartbeat when Gerard finally asks, “Is he okay?”

Bob doesn’t answer right away, slinging the stethoscope around his neck and moving on to poke my stomach. Then he points to the door, meeting Gerard’s gaze. “Go get Josh and Bert.”

My heart sinks even lower. My cheeks burn with fresh tears. I manage to look up at Bob with a fearful gaze when Gerard vanishes through the door. “Something’s wrong,” I state. “What’s wrong? Are they okay?”

Bob swallows hard when he finally meets my eyes. “I don’t know,” He admits. “But I’m gonna do everything I can, Frodo. Just relax, okay?”

I let my head fall back onto the pillow. In a matter of seconds, the others are bustling back into the room, crowding around me in an instant. Josh’s blue eyes are the size of the moon when he grabs my hand. The other hand brushes through my hair, and I barely register his voice mumbling repeated reassurances, both to me and himself.

Bob takes control of the situation quickly, turning to Josh first. “Take Gerard to your room,” He says in a low voice, professional and confident.

Gerard is shaking his head furiously, and Josh doesn’t look too happy either. “No,” Gerard says. “I can’t leave him.” His eyes dart to me, panic building behind the thin line of water gathering there.

“Bert is going to help me,” Bob continues. He’s watching Gerard now with a calm expression. “You and Josh are going to go call Ray and tell him to get his ass back here. Then you’re going to make me coffee because I need caffeine for this shit. As soon as we know what’s going on, you can come back in.” Leaving no room for argument, Bob turns back to me. He begins poking my stomach again, barely glancing at me from the corner of his eye. “Tell me again exactly what happened.”

I close my eyes. My voice shakes when I relay the story once again. Bob is silent the entire time, his touch disappearing and reappearing in a different place. When I stop talking, Bob just says, “Okay, I need your pants off.”

My eyes spring open and I find myself gaping at him. My face is flushed, I can feel the red heating up my cheeks. Apparently, Bob doesn’t acknowledge my embarrassment. His back is to me, his hands switching and clicking away on the ultrasound monitor.

“Come on, shortstack,” Bert nudges my shoulder. “Pants down. I promise I won’t stare.”  He offers me a crooked smile, probably meant for reassurance, but I only feel my cheeks burn again. With a sigh, I push my sweatpants down. I feel exposed and awkward lying in front of them, but my embarrassment passes in an instant when I see Bert’s face pale. “Bob,” He mutters. He looks like he might be sick.

Bob turns around, his face falling as well, though he mostly manages to keep his expression neutral. “Oh fuck…” He swallows hard, watching the space between my legs. I attempt to sit up, straining to see over my stomach exactly what it is that they’re gaping at, but Bert pushes my shoulders back to the bed.

He shakes his head at me. “You don’t wanna see,” is all he says.

“What?” I demand. My voice comes out shakier than I wanted and I push myself up again. This time, I do see myself. There’s a mess of dried blood on my thighs, smeared and flaking off with the semen. My sweatpants are a stained heap on the floor. It looks like I just killed someone between my legs. I lie back down.

“Okay…” Bob murmurs, mostly to himself. He takes a deep breath before slipping on latex gloves and moving forward. “Put your knees up,” He commands. I allow my eyes to close again, jumping a bit when I feel cold fingers pressing against the inside of my thigh, slowly inching inward. “Tell me if it hurts,” Bob says, and then, “Bert, can you get me some water to clean this up?”

I feel Bert disappear from my side. Bob’s fingers continue to move on me, pressing down just enough to feel pressure, but nothing hurts. By the time Bert returns with water, Bob is finished. They clean me up a bit, Bob muttering something about how I can have an actual shower later, and then he instructs me to put my legs back down. With my pants still lying helplessly trashed on the floor, they at least have the decency to cover me up before pulling up my shirt.

The feel of the cool blue gel on my stomach is familiar and strangely somewhat comforting when Bob presses down the probe, sliding it around. Black and white static flickers on the monitor and I squint to see my babies through the screen.

“Does anything still hurt?” Bob asks. “Or has the pain all subsided?”

I take inventory of my own body for a second, and then shake my head. “No, it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Can you show me where it hurt?” Bob asks.

I point to my lower stomach, below the bulge the twins have created. “Mostly here,” I say. “But kind of in my back, too? Like my lower back, on the side.” I gesture again, earning an acknowledging nod from Bob.

The room is filled with a heavy silence as Bob slides the wand around. I watch the flickering images on the screen as they pass, the black and white flashes numbing my mind a bit, halting my spinning thoughts. Bob goes “Hmmm… That’s weird,” at one point, but when I ask him what he’s referring to, he waves me off and just says that he needs to ask Ray about something. Finally, Bob pulls the probe off, asking Bert to get me the tissues, and then he flicks the monitor off. He sits down on the chair across from me, spinning slightly.

“You don’t smoke, right?” He asks.

I shake my head no as I wipe at the gel coating my stomach, and then pull my shirt down. Bert helps me move to a sitting position on the bed.

“When’s the last time you had sex?” Bob wonders. “Of any sort.”

I think back to the last few months, how the end of my relationship with Zacky was like a firework-- a little fizzling out and then it blew up and was over. “May,” I finally say. “I think. A little over two months ago.”

The realization that I had been with Zacky only two months ago is mind-boggling to me. It’s feels like I’ve lived in this little apartment for years. My time with Zacky seems like a lifetime ago.

Bob doesn’t outwardly notice that I’m lost in my own thoughts, so I’m kind of shocked when he asks, “What about jerking off?”

I feel myself blushing again. I shrug, absently pulling at a thread on the blanket. “Umm… A couple weeks ago maybe? I’m not really sure.”

Bob is just nodding along. He spins again on his swivel chair. “Everything seems fine with the babies,” He informs me. “They’re doing really well. Usually when a mother bleeds during pregnancy, it can signal a miscarriage. Fortunately, they’re both happy and healthy.”

“But I was bleeding,” I interrupt, frowning. “And the pain. What the hell was that?”

A small smile pulls at the corners of Bob’s mouth. “Far as I can tell, Frodo, you just had your first period.” My mouth falls open and I gape at him. He lets out a short chuckle. “You never bled before you got pregnant, so I’m thinking that you never actually menstruated until then either. Assuming this is like any other pregnancy, it still takes an egg and a sperm to make a baby, but you didn’t have ovaries and a uterus, so your eggs were never actually moved from one place to the other and you never bled. Still, the eggs were in there somehow, already able to be fertilized when you had sex even the first time. But now that you’re growing more parts to accommodate the babies, I think maybe your body is falling into a routine with more regular pregnancies.”

I simply stare at Bob, trying to comprehend what the hell he just said, when Bert shakes his head. He sits down on the edge of the bed next to my feet. “That all makes sense in theory,” Bert says. “Aside from the fact that the bleeding is caused when the lining of the uterus sheds.” Now I turn to gape at him. How the fuck does Bert know all of this? Did I really not pay any attention in health class? “That’s why pregnant people don’t get their period.”

“That’s true,” Bob is nodding again. “But there’s also this thing called early pregnancy bleeding that can be caused by hormonal changes. It’s basically the same as a period, but it usually occurs in the first few months of pregnancy. It can happen when the mother is really fucking horny.” Bob turns his gaze pointedly to me. “That’s why it happened right after sex.”

There’s silence for a few beats while I try to take all of that in. But then I shake my head and ask, “What about the pain? What was that?”

This time, Bob doesn’t even attempt to hide his amusement. “Cramps,” He states. “Maybe we should pick up some Midol and tampons.”

I flip him off, causing him to only laugh more.

“So there you have it, Frodo,” Bob says, standing up. “You’re fine. The babies are fine. Everything is fine. Just be careful, alright? I suggest taking it slow with Gerard-- No sex, especially penetration, until we know more about this. We’re still not sure exactly how the twins are coming out yet and the last thing we need is for them to fall out of your butt while Gerard is trying to stick his dick up there.”

I make a face and then remember Gerard. “Can I see him yet?”

“You should get cleaned up,” Bob notes, moving a finger in the direction of my pants on the floor. “But yeah, I’ll go get him.”

…

The steam feels like a godsend around me, swallowing me up in it’s fast-moving particles and moving me along with it at the speed of light. It’s serene and relaxing to feel the water pounding down on my back, running through my hair and seeming to wash away all of my problems. But too soon, the hot water disperses and I find myself flipping off the shower, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around my waist. When I push the shower curtain aside, the sight of a figure across the small bathroom makes me jump.

“Holy fuck,” I mutter with a sigh. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Gerard is sitting with his back to the bathroom door, his knees pulled to his chest, with his hands twisted in his black hair. He looks up at me. His hazel eyes are bloodshot and there’s still tears streaking his face. Wiping them away with the back of his hand, he pushes himself to his feet. In a single step, he’s across the bathroom, wrapping his arms around me. He doesn’t seem to care that my hair is dripping water onto his shoulder and I’m almost completely naked aside from the towel hanging loose on my hips. He buries his nose in the crook of my neck and I hear what sounds like a soft sob escape him.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Frankie,” He says. “I’m so sorry.”

He repeats this a few times, his voice getting shakier with each echo. I wrap my arms around his waist, pulling him close, rubbing my hands over his back in what is supposed to be a soothing gesture.

“No, Gee,” I shake my head. His hair tickles as it brushes my nose, but I turn into it, breathing in the scent of him. Oh shit, I think I’m crying now, too. “Gee, this wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes it was.” Gerard pulls back abruptly, meeting my gaze. He looks almost angry, but I think it’s directed at himself. “Bob told me everything. He told me that the sex caused it. I was the one that--”

“Shut. The fuck. Up.” I glare at him. My voice is terrifying, even to my own ears. It doesn’t surprise me when Gerard listens. Narrowing my eyes, I twist one of my hands in his hair. Maybe it’s the hormones, but it pisses me off to know that Gerard blames himself for this. My breath is ragged for a few moments and I try my best to slow it down. “Do you really think you’re the one to blame for this?” It’s supposed to be a rhetorical question, but Gerard nods anyway. I shake my head in response. “Dude, this is not your fault. Bob says it’s normal, okay? It happens.”

“But it was the sex,” Gerard croaks. His voice is worn and tired. “That’s what caused the bleeding. I was the one that gave you--”

“You gave me what I wanted,” I interrupt angrily. “I wanted you to touch me, Gerard. I fucking wanted it. And it was the best fucking handjob I’ve ever had.” I sigh, leaning forward to rest my forehead against Gerard’s. “The sex didn’t _cause_ the bleeding,” I tell him. “It _triggered_ it. There’s a difference, dumbass.”

Gerard’s chuckles and I consider this a win for myself. He places a soft kiss on my lips. “I was so scared,” He finally says and it’s just a breath of air, like I can feel like words fanning out across my cheeks. “I was so scared I was going to lose you.”

Surprisingly, it wasn’t the thought of losing myself that had scared me. It was the thought of losing the twins. “Gerard,” I pull back a bit, just enough to meet his eyes. The tears have dried for the most part, but I see fresh ones threatening already to fall over. “Gee, if anything happens to me--”

“No,” Gerard cuts off my words, shaking his head. His jaw sets and his lip quivers. “No, Frank. We’re not talking about that.”

“Please, Gee,” I try again. I brush a few fingers through his hair, nudging his nose with mine. I swallow hard. “If anything happens to me, you have to promise you’ll take care of them. I’m all that they have, but I want them to have you, too.” I take a shaky breath. “I don’t know how this is going to work,” I admit. “Nobody does. But they’re growing inside of me and eventually they’ve got to come out somehow. Google says that almost 800 women die in childbirth a year.” I let out a laugh, tears finally spilling out again. I’m vaguely aware that I’m trembling. “If that many people die a year in regular labor, what are my chances, huh?”

Gerard bites down hard on his lip, but he says nothing.

“Promise me,” I repeat, my voice stronger this time. I lace my fingers through his hair again, tightening. “Fucking promise me, okay?”

Gerard nods, letting his forehead fall forward onto mine, his eyes going closed though it does nothing to stop the tears. “Okay,” He finally whispers. “Yes. I promise.”

 


	53. Chapter Fifty-Three

**** One…

Two…

Three…

_ Three?  _ How many fucking people are on top of me? I can feel someone’s hand on my stomach, another hand pressed into my own, and there’s what I think is a foot under my ass. There’s also a dead weight on my left arm and something twisted around my ankles.

I don’t want to open my eyes, but my bladder is fighting with me, and after a few long minutes, it wins the battle and I’m opening my eyes. It useless attempting to scramble off of the bed and not wake anyone. Peering around me, I see that it was Gerard’s hand on my stomach, reaching around from where he lies behind me, while Mikey’s fingers are twisted tightly around my own, his lanky frame strewn across my arm. It’s Josh’s body tangled around my feet and shoving his leg under my butt, his hand fisted in the hem of my shirt.

I groan, poking at Josh first with my toes, causing him to wiggle slightly, squirming away, and ultimately flailing comically for a dramatic second before plummeting to the floor. The noise pulls Gerard awake and he stirs behind me.

Josh’s head appears at the end of the bed, his blue eyes huge with panic. “What the hell was that for?” He croaks.

I offer a mostly apologetic shrug as I struggle to disentangle my limbs from the Ways. Gerard, now conscious, lets me go easily, but Mikey’s hand seems to involuntarily tighten around mine. I sigh and jab a finger into his side. He groans, making this weird horse-sounding noise, and twists away, joining Josh on the floor. Mikey’s head comes up a second later with narrowed eyes and a grumbled, “Motherfucker…” before something visibly occurs to him and his hazel eyes are alight with what I think is concern. I don’t have time to dissect his expression though, because my bladder is on the verge of exploding. I step over Mikey and race to the bathroom.

I try to avoid my own reflection as I wash my hands, but it’s hard when I barely recognize myself as the person staring back. My stomach is huge. Not even the shirt I’m wearing hides the fact that it looks like I’m smuggling a watermelon under my clothes. I frown. What happens once the babies are out? Will the skin just deflate and sag there, all baggy and gross? Or will it just snap back into place like Mr. Fantastic’s? Hell, I’m a pregnant guy. I deserve some cool superpowers, I think.

As soon as I emerge from the bathroom, I’m bombarded with two suffocating arms as they wrap around my shoulders, my face immediately pressed into someone’s chest.

I take a deep breath. As random as the hug is, I allow my arms to settle around Mikey’s thin waist, reveling in the feeling that seems to surround the seemingly simple gesture. I shift a little so my head is tucked under his chin instead of crammed into his chest. I feel his heart beating against my ear and close my eyes.

“I should have been here,” Mikey mumbles. His voice cracks a little. I’ve known Mikey for years and I know his excellent composure abilities-- I’ve only seen him cry once in his life-- and now I feel him shaking as he hugs me closer. I tighten my own grasp. “I should have fucking been here.” It sounds like he’s berating himself and I try to shake my head, argue and tell him that there’s nothing he could have done, but he’s sniffling and pushing on. “What the hell kind of best friend am I, huh? I can’t even be here when you need me. I should have been here, Frankie. I’m so sorry.”

I’m shaking my head again, pulling back to look up at Mikey. His eyes are red and I feel a pang of guilt. “Mikes, no. Look at me; I’m fine. Okay? I’m alive. I’m walking. No more bleeding. It doesn’t hurt. I’m okay.”

“And last night?” Mikey insists. His lower lip trembles and it makes my heart ache. “Were you okay last night?”

I can’t lie to him, and in all honesty I wanted him there and he wasn’t. But I bite my tongue, glancing over to where Gerard and Josh watch us silently. Resigned, I shake my head. “No,” I admit. “I was fucking terrified. But I don’t blame you, Mikes. There is nothing you could have done to stop it.” Grabbing his hand, I move it so his palm is resting on my baby bump. He doesn’t look happy still, but he looks less pained. I smile a little. “But since you weren’t here, you didn’t hear the good news.”

Now Mikey’s lips twitch upward a bit. He chuckles. “Good news? If you’re going to tell me that the good news is that you finally got into Gerard’s pants, I don’t want to hear about it.”

I laugh, too. “Well there is that,” I agree. “But actually, I was talking about your nephew. He has a name now.” Mikey’s face brightens and he smiles at me, then looks down to my stomach. “Mikey, meet Elliott Michael Way.”

And if I thought he was beaming before, now he is the fucking sun. A grin stretches across his face and for a second, I think he might actually cry. “Elliott Michael?”

Mikey pulls me into another bone crushing hug. I try to pretend I don’t hear him sniffling into my hair, but I feel tears building in my own eyes, too, so I pull away. “Don’t get sappy.”

Mikey chuckles again, about to say something else when the door bangs open and all of the attention in the room is turned to Bert, who stands in the doorway with two black trash bags in his hands. He glances between the four of us, eyes landing on me in the end. “Am I interrupting something? Were you guys having a moment? I can come back.”

I shake my head and motion for him to come in. “Come on,” I say. “You can join the moment.”

Bert kicks the door shut behind him and drops the bags onto the ground, digging around in them. When he sits back, he has something in his hands. Something he proceeds to throw at me. I fling my arms up just in time, managing to catch whatever the object is. I turn it over in my hands a few times, growing more confused by the second. “Umm… Bert, is there a reason you just threw a naked baby doll at my head?”

I watch curiously as Bert pulls free three more baby dolls, and then a box of… diapers?

“What the hell are you doing?” I ask when he starts spreading the stuff out on the floor.

Bert glances up at me. “Have you ever changed a babies diaper before?” He wonders.

“Well… No.”

He nods, like he expected this answer. “And have you ever fed a baby?” I shake my head no again. “Or burped one?” Another no. “Frank, have you ever even held a real baby before?”

“One time,” I admit. “But I was like seven and it started crying.”

Bert sighs, returning his attention to the bags. “It’s a good thing you’ve got me then.”

Ten minutes later, Mikey, Gerard, and I are sitting together on the floor with our own separate baby dolls. Bert occupies the floor across from us so we can all see what he’s doing. Josh just stands to the side with his camera in hand, laughing his ass off at our failed attempts to clothe the fake children. As it turns out, putting a diaper on a baby is really fucking hard.

Gerard is super careful. Each movement is slow, deliberate, like he’s afraid he’s going to break the doll. 

“They’re not as fragile as you think, Gee,” Bert informs him. “They’re babies, yes, but they’ve got joints. They can move and you can move them.”

Mikey, on the other hand, is just the opposite. He manhandles the baby into the diaper and then grins triumphantly. “I did it.”

“You did,” Bert agrees. “But you put it on backwards. Just make sure you watch the neck. The babies won’t be able to hold their heads up on their own yet, so you have to hold it up for them.”

Bert has to help me at least six times to make sure the diaper is both on correctly and fastened tight enough without being too tight. When Bert thinks we’ve got a handle on the diapers, we move on to the clothes, which is even harder.

I eventually wrestle the baby doll into a onesie that’s about a size and a half too big, but Bert tells me I did a good job. I preen under the praise. And then he tells me to put on mittens.

“Mittens?” I ask dubiously. “Dude, I’m not planning on taking them out to build a snowman as soon as they’re out of me. Do they really need mittens?”

“Yeah,” Bert nods, handing me a pair of tiny orange mittens. “Babies can scratch themselves with their fingernails, so the mittens help prevent that. Besides, they’re more sensitive to cold than you are. Remember, they’re inside you up until that point; They’re in warm fluid, cramped and tiny and coddled. So when they come out, you want to keep them warm and swaddled.”

My brow furrows as I watch him. “What the hell does swaddled mean?”

Bert retrieves a small blanket next and proceeds to show us how to “swaddle” the baby dolls, which I realize basically just means wrapping them up so tight them can barely move. And that sounds kind of cruel, really, but Bert explains that it makes the babies feel more comfortable and safe.

Almost two hours later, we’re learning how to mix formula and heat it up (without using the microwave, because apparently that’s not how you heat stuff up for small children) when Ray comes in. He looks at Bert, surprised and impressed since no one else thought it was important to teach me how to actually take care of two kids before now. “Good thinking,” He commends him. “But Bob was wondering if we could borrow Frank for a little while. We want to check up on everything and make sure he and the kids are alright.”

Bert releases me from my lessons, insisting he wanted to keep Mikey and Gerard for a little while longer to keep practicing. Josh volunteers to go with me to see Bob, and I gratefully let him follow.

The mess of blood from last night is cleaned up when I lie back on the cot next to the ultrasound monitor, breathing slowly in and out. Josh takes my hand, squeezing once. “Relax,” He says softly. “It’s gonna be fine.”

I only nod, hoping he’s right.

Bob and Ray come in a few minutes later, booting up the machine. Ray lifts my shirt, squeezing some gel onto my stomach, and then lets Bob take over to probe me. I can see a few flickers and flashes of black and white static on the screen when he presses the wand down, moving it around a bit. They take measurements first and check the heartbeats.

“They seem healthy,” Bob informs me. “They’re showing at about twenty-four, maybe twenty-five weeks growth.”

“That’s good, though, right?” I ask. “They’re healthy. The bleeding didn’t hurt them?”

Bob shakes his head. “No, they’re fine. But…” His voice trails off and he glances at Ray. 

“But?” I prompt. My heartbeat accelerates and I can feel my nerves spiking at the word, the uncertain tone of his voice. “But what?”

Ray takes over with a sigh. “We think we know how the twins are going to be born.” He moves around the ultrasound machine to get me some tissues. When he hands them over, I wipe my stomach clean and then sit up. Ray and Bob share a few more silent looks, Ray wringing his hands in front of himself while Bob simply watches me with an indiscernible expression.

“For fuck’s sake, guys,” Josh groans eventually. “Just spit it out.”

Bob goes to sift through some papers on the desk along the far wall. When he comes back, he lies the pictures out on the cot for me and Josh to see. They’re sonograms. Pictures of the twins. “This,” Bob points to the first image. “Is from eleven weeks. Then weeks fourteen and fifteen.” He points to the images after. “All the way until the measurements I took last night.”

“And?” I prompt again.

“This,” Ray interjects, tracing his finger along a white section on the first picture, then the next. “Is the uterine wall. The babies are inside the uterus, surrounded by amniotic fluid. When the water breaks and that fluid comes out, it means you’re going into labor.”

“And usually, when the fluid comes out, it’s through the cervix,” Bob picks up. “And the babies would follow. Since you don’t have a cervix, we weren’t sure where the fluid would come out. Until we saw this.”

Along the white line that Ray had called the uterine wall, Bob points to a small black nick. “At first, we thought it was just a blip, you know? But it’s in every picture.” He gestures at each sonogram in progression. “And it gets bigger each time. It’s a crack.”

“What does that mean?” I wonder. “My uterus is cracked? What if it breaks?”

“If it continues cracking,” Ray says, and he sounds grim suddenly, concerned and nervous. “It will break. And in the area the crack is, it will split and run directly into your urinary tract.”

“Which means that when your water breaks,” Bob continues. “You’ll literally piss amniotic fluid. Your urinary tract will basically take on the role of a cervix. Which means that it will lead the kids out.”

My eyes widen considerably when I realize what he’s saying. “You’re telling me that they’re going to try to come through my dick?” My breathing seems to stop, my lungs seeming to collapse in on themselves. Panic and fear take over.

It doesn’t ease me any when Ray and Bob both nod. “Yeah,” Bob admits. “We can do a cesarean, though. That means we’ll take the babies out directly through your stomach.” He glances at Ray, frowning. “But when your water breaks, I don’t know how much time we’ll have before the twins try to come out. We’ll have to work fast.”

I swallow down my terror and bile, trying to remain calm. Having a panic attack right now won’t help anyone. But I’m not sure I want to know the answer when I ask, “What happens if we aren’t fast enough?”

Bob doesn’t respond. He looks down at the sonograms, avoiding my gaze. It’s Ray who bites down on his lip and finally says what I’d sort of expected the whole time. “Frank, it will literally tear you apart.”

 


	54. LIV

****The bed beneath me is comfortable enough, but it feels too stiff against my back.  My nipples hurt and my lower back aches and my ankles feel swollen. There’s a set of headphones on my stomach and I can hear the soft tune as it plays to the twins, something to calm them. It does nothing to calm me.

I let my head roll to the side. Mikey is curled up on the bed next to me. I thought he’d fallen asleep, but his bright eyes are open, watching me. He doesn’t say anything, but reaches out and holds my hand. The simple gesture makes a lump rise in my throat because it shows, even without words, that he’s scared. I can feel it. He’s just as terrified as I am now that we know how the twins are going to be born. But as he squeezes my hand, I also know that I’m not alone in this.

“I might die,” I state. It’s not a question and it surprises me that my voice doesn’t even sound the least bit shaky. It’s flat. No emotion. A simple proclamation; The grass is green. The sky is blue. I won’t live to see the age of seventeen.

“Frankie--” Mikey starts and his tone holds all the sadness I wasn’t able to muster.

But I shake my head. “No, Mikes. It’s true. And I know Ray and Bob are going to try their damnedest to make sure I don’t die, but it could happen. It’s a very real possibility and pretending like everything is peachy fucking keen isn’t going to help anyone. I’m facing facts.”

Mikey is silent for a long time. His presence is reassuring though; It’s the only stable thing I’ve had in a long time, the knowledge that he’s there and he’s not going anywhere. Part of me wants to curl up with Gerard right now, but another part of me is screaming to push him away. Mikey has always been there for me and I need him. He’s safe. He’s familiar. And as much as it pains me to admit, Gerard is new. We’ve been through a lot together since I found out I was pregnant, but it doesn’t change the fact that the relationship building between us is still growing, it’s developing. And in a month, I could be dead. Why build even more of a relationship with him if my death is inevitable? I don’t want to hurt him more than necessary. At this moment, I just want to revel in Mikey’s comfort. Mikey seems to understand this. He scoots a little closer on the mattress and rests a hand on my stomach, right under the headphones.

“Are you scared?” He finally asks. His voice is small, barely audible, and he sounds so young suddenly.

“Scared of dying?” I shrug. “Sort of, I guess. But I think I’m more scared of what’s going to happen to them if I do.”

Mikey hums softly and his grip on me seems to tighten. “Dying never hurts anyone except those it leaves behind.”

We fall into silence again. I don’t like the silence. It gives me time to think and I don’t like the places my mind wanders after that. “My parents wouldn’t know,” I say. My chest aches at the realization. “If I die, my parents won’t even know.”

“That was their choice,” Mikey tells me sternly. He sits up a bit to meet my gaze with narrowed eyes. “They’re the ones who wanted nothing to do with you.”

It’s a stupid thought, I know that. But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m terrified and my parents-- even if they did disown me-- have no idea what’s going on right now. They’re clueless that their grandchildren are growing so fast. They don’t know that having the twins could very possibly kill me. They didn’t care enough. But it hurts because I want them to care.

I wonder what they’re doing at this moment. My dad is probably at work and my mom in the garden, planting flowers or pulling weeds. They’re going on about their lives. Do they think about me? What did they do with my belongings? My bed and clothes? Did they donate them, like they can just erase the memory of me, or pack them away in the attic, a possibility of my return or future children they may have? Do they still have family photos sitting around the house, or did they get rid of those too? Do they pretend I never existed?

I hope they feel my absence like a tangible thing, touching their lives and burning their minds. I hope they pass by my old bedroom in the morning and pause out of habit to wake me up. I want them to sit across from each other at the dinner table and set a place for me, only to remember how they cut me out of their family. I want them to feel just as empty, as lost and scared, as I do.

Of course, thinking of my parents leads me to thinking about Zacky. It doesn’t hurt as much as it used to thinking about him. I imagine he’s still hooking up with Synyster, manipulating other clueless kids into sleeping with him and falling in love only to leave them behind when he’s finished having his fun. He won’t know of my demise either. Perhaps he’ll hear rumors about my untimely death, and he’ll recall the few months we spent together. He might even have a pang of guilt, even the slightest sliver of remorse, strike through his chest. Or maybe he’ll frown and try to remember why he knows that name, try to remember the face as well, and come up with no memory whatsoever beyond a glimmer of recognition. I’ll be nothing more than a word on the tip of his tongue, a tickle at the back of his mind.

And then there’s Gerard and Mikey, Josh and Ray, even Bob. They’ll know of my death. They’ll be the ones that hurt the most. Ray and Bob will curse themselves for not having done more to save me, but in the end I’m just another patient to them. They’ll move on, graduate and start practices of their own. Live lives that don’t revolve around the pregnant male.

Josh will cry. He’ll bawl like a baby if I die. Luckily he won’t be here long enough to see it. He’ll go back to New Jersey and start his Junior year, fall back into a routine with Matt and Andrew, and then he’ll inevitably get the call from Mikey. The one that says “ _Frank didn’t make it_.”

Mikey will take it the hardest. He’s been basically my brother for as long as I can remember. Of course, he has his real brother to rely on after I’m gone. His family. A mother and father that both still care for him. He has other friends. Maybe if I die, it will bring Josh and Mikey closer together. Josh can replace me. I wouldn’t mind so much, being dead and all.

And Gerard… If I die, he’s the one who promised to take in the twins. It will be hard, no doubt, being a single eighteen-year-old dad. But he has Mikey, and his parents, Ray and Bert and Josh to help him. In a way, it will be my dying gift to him; The twins will be the last part of me, the only remaining memory. And they’ll stay with Gerard forever in a way I’m not able to.

 

I’m not sure when exactly, but sometime in the midst of my thoughts, I fall asleep. It’s dark when I finally wake up and Mikey is gone. Instead, in his place, is Gerard. He’s asleep, too, his face nuzzled into the crook of my neck while his arm falls across my stomach. I don’t say anything, don’t move, I barely even breathe, but Gerard stirs. His eyelids flutter open as he glances up. It takes a hazy minute for him to fully awaken and then he’s leaning close to close the gap between us, our lips slotting together. There’s pain in that single kiss. Heartache. Sadness. Hope. Terror. All of these different emotions neither of us could speak aloud.

I pull back and shift, moving so my hand rakes through his hair. “Go back to sleep,” I say. Gerard nods slowly and lies back down next to me. I follow my own advice and within seconds, I’m being tugged back into a dreamless sleep.

 

The next time I wake up, I’m alone. The apartment is silent and when I wander into the bathroom and then the kitchen, I see the entire place is vacant. I make a bowl of cereal and sit down at the table. My head hurts and I can feel the twins squirming about restlessly. Laying a hand on my stomach, I smile. This may be the only thing I get to feel. The odds are very high that I’ll die before I’m able to hold either of them in my arms. I stand up, go to the bedroom, and find a pen. A journal sits in the top drawer of the nightstand and I retrieve that, too. Then I sit down at the table again and begin writing.

_Mikey,_

_I love you. You know that, right? You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, the only thing that I’ve felt even resembles family. You’re my brother. I guess if you’re reading this, I’m dead. Don’t cry, okay? I know you’re going to anyway, but I don’t want you to be sad. I’m probably in a better place now, or ruling Hell. Either way is possible, really._

_Please don’t blame the twins. I know you enough to know that you’re not only sad, but you’re angry I’m gone. You’re looking for someone to blame for my death, but it’s not their fault. All of this was my choice; I could have aborted, I could have given up, but I didn’t. So if having the twins killed me, it’s okay. As long as they lived. I want Lizzie and Elliott to have a good life, a full one like I never got. I need you to promise you’ll give that to them._

_Make sure Gerard is okay. I know he’s probably broken up about losing me, too. But I want him to know that I really do love him. I want him to raise Lizzie and Elliott like they’re his own. I want him to keep going, to move on from me and find someone else who loves him as much as I do. Make sure he finds someone who deserves him, Mikes._

_One more thing; Tell my parents that I love them. They had a shitty way of showing it, but I think they wanted to do what was best for me. And maybe they were sort of right in the end; If having the twins killed me, then aborting would have protected me. They need to work on their tactics, but they’re good parents. Tell them that I understand why they wanted me to terminate the pregnancy, but they need to understand why I didn’t; I was trying to be a good parent, too._

_And lastly, please make sure that Lizzie and Elliott know I love them. I didn’t make it long enough to tell them myself, but I want them to know they were the best thing that ever happened to me. Take care of them, Mikey. All of them._

_xoFrank._

I rip the page out of the notebook and fold it up. Drying my eyes on the sleeve of my shirt, I stand up. If I really do die, I need to leave this behind for them. For Mikey.

 

Mikey doesn’t come back into the apartment until a few hours later. I’m reading on the couch when he sits down across from me. Pulling the folded note from the pocket of my sweatpants, I hold it out for Mikey, just out of reach when he goes to grab it. “Don’t read it until it’s time, okay?”

Mikey’s brow furrows. “What time?”

“You’ll know when it’s time,” I say. “Just… promise me, okay? You’ll know when it’s time. And you can’t read it until then.”

“What is it?” Mikey wonders, but takes the paper out of my hand and tucks it away in his pocket.

I shrug nonchalantly. “A letter. I’ll know if you read it before it’s time, so just wait. Trust me, you’ll--”

“Know when it’s time. Yeah,” Mikey rolls his eyes. “Whatever that means.”

I nod and focus back on my book, but I can’t make out the words on the page through the blurring tears once again building in my eyes.


	55. Capitolo Cinquantacinque

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SMUTTY SMUT SMUT.

**** The room is silent. There’s so much that needs to be said, but no one knows where to begin, how to start. I meet Gerard’s gaze from across the room and he opens his mouth, but shuts it after a second without saying anything. To my left, Mikey sighs softly. Josh, on my right, fidgets with the hem of his dress; I realize he’s wearing the floral one I refused a couple weeks ago.

Bert, strewn across the floor on his back near Gerard, is finally the one who breaks the silence. He fiddles with the camera Josh gave him, turning it on to begin his filming. “We could take them out early,” He suggests. “C-sections are usually scheduled for before the due date anyway, right?”

Ray nods, but his voice is uncertain. “Yeah.”

“But--” Bob interjects. “Since it’s an unusual pregnancy, we can’t be sure they’re actually fully developed unless we perform an invasive test. And that of course runs the risk of infection.”

“If we take them out too early, they’d be premature and possibly underdeveloped,” Ray states simply. He’s frowning, looking unhappy as he exchanges a glance with Bob. “I think our best bet for the babies is to wait until they’re ready to come out, which means waiting until Frank’s water breaks.”

“If we wait until the water breaks,” Bob says, shaking his head. “We run a higher risk of injury on Frank’s part. Even normal c-sections after that point are time sensitive. If we don’t work fast enough, Frank will die.”

“And if we take them out too early, the babies might die.” I look down at my hands, ignoring the way everyone’s eyes turn to me. I try to keep my breathing even. “We wait until my water breaks. It’s the safer choice for the kids.”

“But not for you.” I look up at the sound of Gerard’s voice. He’s glaring at the floor, his jaw clenched. “If you wait, it could literally kill you.”

“And if I take them out early, it could kill them.” I frown at him, but he’s still looking down. “I don’t want to lose them, Gerard.”

Gerard’s head snaps up then and his eyes meet mine. His are wet. “Yeah, well I don’t want to lose you.” He stands up and leaves the room without another word. Behind me, I hear the apartment door slam shut.

Pushing off the couch, I wave a dismissive hand at Mikey who looks like he wants to follow. “Just give us a minute,” I tell him, and follow Gerard out of the apartment.

In the hallway outside, Gerard is slumped against the opposite wall. His head is buried in his hands and his breathing is uneven. Without a word, I sit down next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Gerard looks up a moment later, his eyes red and tear stained. He doesn’t speak, but slides a hand around to cup the back of my head and pulls me closer. Our lips slot together perfectly, like they were always meant to be there, and I find myself instantly lost in the sensation of kissing him. It’s mesmerizing and overwhelming, breathing in the scent of him mixed with the heady feeling of his tongue parting my lips, rubbing against my own. It’s showing everything that he doesn’t want to say. He’s scared. And suddenly the kiss isn’t just sweet and reassuring anymore, it’s heated and passionate. Urgent. The hand that isn’t twisting in my hair settles on my hip, slipping beneath my shirt. Blunt fingernails dig into my side, dragging down and sending a shiver of anticipation through me.

“Gee,” I gasp when his mouth disappears from mine, finally allowing me to suck in a full breath. But his kisses only trail down my jaw, sucking on my neck, while his hand slips beneath the waistline of my pants, sliding down to fit perfectly around the curve of my ass. Gerard’s hand flexes, tightening and squeezing and then slowly parts the cheeks and I bury my face in his shoulder when I feel a single dry finger press against the hole. Not intruding, just adding some pressure as he traces the rim. He’s still sucking on my neck, where I’m sure a lovely array of bruises are forming, and I feel hot all over.

Reaching out, my hand lands on the tented area of Gerard’s jeans. It occurs to me, like some horny epiphany, that I’ve never actually seen Gerard’s dick, never touched it, and that needs to change. I pull his lips back to mine, kissing him hard just as I press my palm down against his hard member. He groans, nipping at my lip and then licking his way into my mouth. I quickly push the zipper aside, the button popping open, and then my hand is down Gerard’s pants, wrapping around him, reveling in the way his breath hitches and his hips jerk upward.

Shifting for a better angle, I find myself settling onto his thighs. “I want you,” I murmur quietly, almost too afraid to say the words aloud. We’re sort of already breaking Bob’s no sex rule and Gerard said he wanted to wait until after the kids were born, but there’s a sense of urgency between us all of a sudden. A realization that I might not live that long.

Gerard blinks at me, his eyes raking over my features. And then he leans in to press a soft kiss to my lips, nodding. “Yes. Anything you want.”

I pull back an inch or so, worrying my lower lip between my teeth. “What if I want you to make love to me?”

And then Gerard just closes his eyes, resting his forehead against mine. His next word is repeated even softer this time, a near silent whispered, “Yes.”

It takes us a few minutes to part and stand up because we’re not going have to sex in the middle of the hall while our friends and Gerard’s brother sit in Bob and Ray’s room awaiting our return. Instead, we move down the hall to the room Gerard and I have been sharing. I push the door open, making sure to lock it behind us. And then I turn to face Gerard. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Gerard’s fingertips brush my jaw and he leans in close. “Yes. Completely.”

“We don’t have to,” I tell him sternly. “If you’re doing this just because you think I might die--”

Gerard cuts me off with a soft peck on the lips, barely even there. “I don’t want to wait any longer. Are you sure you want this?”

I smile. “Absolutely.”

I’m shaking by the time we get to the bedroom. Gerard kisses me slowly, taking his time to gently peel off every layer of my clothing, and then when I’m naked, lying on the mattress, Gerard sits back to just look at me. And my heart races. I feel overwhelmed. Anticipation, excitement, desire. What surprises me most is that I don’t feel nervous or scared. I feel comfortable, even under Gerard’s scrutiny. Maybe because the bond we share, whatever emotions are between us, it goes deeper than just the flesh. Gerard knows me by now, he’s seen me at my worst and he knows my fears and he understands and he still loves me. This is the first time he’s seeing my body like this, laid out like a pornstar on our bed, but it doesn’t seem so scary because it’s only skin and Gerard has seen deeper than that by now.

“You’re so beautiful,” He says and it’s just a ghost of a breath, but it sends a chill through me. I sit up, twisting my fingers in the front of Gerard’s shirt, pulling it up and off. And then I kiss him, agonizingly slow, tender, letting him see without words just how special he is to me.

I push Gerard back until he lies on the mattress, hovering above him. Trailing kisses down his chest, across his stomach, sliding the jeans off. Suddenly he’s lying completely naked beneath me and it feels surreal, like some crazy wet dream.

But then Gerard pulls me back in for a kiss. Our members become trapped between our bodies, sliding in perfect rhythm against our stomachs, before Gerard cups his hands around my butt, squeezing and pulling the cheeks apart. He angles my body so he can grind up, his dick nudging against my hole. I inhale sharply and release a keening moan. “Lube,” I command, and then scramble off so he can find it in the bedside table. When he sits back, he places himself between my legs, using one hand to stroke me lazily.

“Do you want to top?” He wonders.

I think back to what Bob said about refraining from sex, but we know now how the babies are going to be born. So I shake my head. “No. Wanna feel you inside me.”

Gerard actually shivers and then nods. He coats his fingers in a generous amount of lube, nudges my legs farther apart, and lowers his mouth to the head of my cock when he presses the first finger in. I’m no virgin, obviously, but it’s been awhile since I’ve had sex so it stings when Gerard adds a second finger and then a third. I writhe beneath him, half due to the burn as he scissors his fingers, and half because he’s running his tongue along the vein on the underside of my dick and I don’t know how much longer I can take that. So when his fingers brush my prostate, I let out a string of curses and tangle my hands in Gerard’s hair. “Do that again,” I beg. “Oh fuck. Please, Gerard.”

And he does. He angles his fingers just right and thrusts them again, hitting the spot that makes my vision flash white, stars igniting behind my eyes.

I flap my hand around in the air and say, “You really need to do something, or I’m coming like this.”

Gerard smirks and both his mouth and his fingers disappear, leaving me whining low in the back of my throat. But I watch as Gerard sits back, rolling the condom on and slicking it with up more lubricant. When he leans down to kiss me again, his dick brushes my hole, probing, ready. “You’re sure, Frankie?” Gerard asks again.

Instead of answering, I wrap my legs around Gerard’s waist, pulling him closer so the tip of him pushes past the ring of muscles. It’s bigger than his fingers and the burn returns, but Gerard kisses me softly while his hand moves slowly up and down my shaft and before long, Gerard releases a moan and I feel his hips against me. He pulls away, sliding easily back in. And then again, this time a little harder. He hovers above me, his eyes open as he watches me and I can only stare back. His mouth is wet, pink and parted, and he runs his tongue across his lower lip. When he thrusts back in, my vision is colored with dancing lights, exploding stars, and I release an embarrassing whimper.

Gerard moves slowly against me. Even when I beg him for more, for harder, for faster, he keeps his pace even. It’s so different from any other sex I’ve had. Gentle, passionate, and it just consumes me. I get lost in the sensations, the feelings and sounds encompassing us. It’s sweet and slow and sensual in a way I never knew it could be.

And when I finally come between our bodies, I feel overwhelmed by my own senses. I force my eyes open, watching Gerard’s face as his mouth falls slack and the condom fills, buried deep inside me. I wonder what it would feel like to remove the latex barrier, to have Gerard fill me with his seed, to mix our scents in a way more intimate than I’ve ever imagined.

I wince when Gerard pulls out, tying off the condom and tossing it in the trashcan. I know I should get up and clean off before the come dries and gets uncomfortable, but I can’t bring myself to move past curling around Gerard. I don’t bother with grabbing the sheets since Gerard’s body feels warm enough. I simply drape a leg over his, an arm across his chest, while he presses one last lingering kiss to my lips.

“I love you,” Gerard says, and I want to return the sentiment but I feel my eyes already drooping, sleep beckoning to me. I feel content in this moment, safe. I don’t worry about the thoughts that seem too far away to grasp, but they’re there in the back of my mind even as I drift to sleep.

_ What if this is the only time we do this? _

_ What if this is the first and last time we make love? _

_ What if this is already the end? _

**[I suck at smut, but here you go. I hope you enjoy my awkward sex. fucking love you. xoRachel.]**


	56. Pretty On The Outside

**** From the front, I look overweight. From the side, I look like a fucking blimp. Purple and white stretch marks cover my stomach and hips. Facing the mirror, I see when Gerard comes into the bathroom behind me. He stops and just watches me for a moment. I catch his gaze in the reflection. Then I point at the bathroom door. “Go away.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

“I’m basking in self-pity, do you mind?”

He shakes his head, waves a hand in the air. “No. By all means, continue.”

I sigh and turn to actually face him. “You think this is funny? Dude, my stomach looks like Freddy Krueger’s face.”

Gerard studies my stomach, then chuckles. “Yeah, it kinda does.” He reaches out to stroke his fingertips across the indented stretch marks. “That doesn’t really explain why you’re glaring at yourself in the mirror. What’s wrong?”

I frown at him. “Look at me, Gee.”

“I’m looking,” he says, and let’s his eyes travel slowly up and down my body. “Frankie, you’re thirty weeks pregnant. With twins! Of course you have stretch marks. They’ll go away eventually.”

“They will not!” I exclaim. I spin around to glare at my reflection again.  I hate the image staring back at me. “I Googled it. Stretch marks don’t just go away.”

“But they’ll fade.” Gerard steps closer, resting his chin on my shoulder while his arms encircle my body. His hands rest on my stomach. “They’re a reminder of what you’ve been through. Battle scars.” His lips press against my neck, but his eyes come back to meet mine in the mirror. “You’re amazing. Inside and out.”

“Are you still going to think that after the twins come out?” I wonder. “I looked up pictures of people post-birth and it’s frankly terrifying. Their stomach gets all saggy and it just kind of hangs there like a deflated balloon. Are you ready for that?”

Gerard rolls his eyes and says, “Someone really needs to take away your internet access.”

“I’m serious, Gerard!” A blinding panic rushes over me suddenly and I have to blink away unexpected tears. “I’m disgusting! My body will literally never be the same after this.”

“Hey, Frank.” Gerard turns me away from the mirror. His hands cup my cheeks, fingers brushing in soothing strokes. Wiping away tears. He ducks his head to meet my eyes. Then he pulls me into a hug. The crying continues for a few minutes, with Gerard and I just clinging together desperately. When I start to calm down, Gerard pushes a hand through my hair. His lips are close to my ear when he says, “You’re not disgusting. And you’re right, your body might never be the same and you’ll have those stretch marks for a long time, maybe forever. And that’s okay. For every single stretch mark on your body, I could name something that I love about you.”

I feel his hand on my stomach again, tracing the marks. Then he kisses me softly. “Your smile. You have such a pretty smile.” Another stretch mark, another kiss. “Your laugh. The way it practically bubbles out of you.” Then another mark and kiss. “And that’s just the physical stuff. I love how sarcastic you are. And compassionate. You’d do anything for the people you care about.”

I surge up to reconnect our lips. “You’re so fucking cheesy,” I tell him, but I’m smiling.

Gerard bumps his nose against mine. We stand like that in the middle of the bathroom, just swaying together, for a few more minutes before Gerard says, “Josh is leaving soon.”

Sighing softly, I nod. “I don’t want him to go.”

“I know, and he doesn’t want to leave,” Gerard says. “But he has to.”

“I know that. It still sucks.”

Gerard simply hums in agreement. Then he takes my hand in his. I’m reluctant when he pulls me from the bathroom. We stop by the bedroom so I can get a shirt, but then we’re moving down the hallway to find Josh. I hear his voice before we reach the door.

“Dammit, Bert. You just took a picture of your foot. Focus here!”

“I’m doing exactly what you said to do!” Bert argues. “I pushed the button and it flashed.”

“You didn’t turn the mode dial, shithead. You have to switch it from camera to video. We want the pictures you take to move, sweetheart. Like a little movie.”

“I know what a video is, Joshua!”

“Don’t raise your voice at me! It’s not my fault you can’t work a damn camera!”

I hear Bert sigh heavily. “This is stupid! It’s fucking stupid, Josh.”

I pause just outside the door. We’re eavesdropping, sure. But I don’t want to barge in just yet. It sounds like we’re interrupting something.

“You should be the one doing this. You should be the one filming, not me. I just…” Bert sighs again, softer this time. It’s almost not audible when he says, “I don’t want you to leave.”

There’s a moment of silence and then Josh says, “I know, sweetie.”

When I peek into the room, Josh has his arms wrapped around Bert. Their foreheads are pressed together, lips locked. My mouth falls open and I gape at Gerard, motioning to them. “Since when is this a thing?”

Gerard shakes his head, looking as surprised as I am.

Josh pulls away from the kiss, rolling his eyes toward the door. “I can hear you, Frankie. You can stop spying.”

Sheepishly I inch into the room, Gerard following behind. “We were not spying,” I tell them.

Josh scoffs.

“We were spying a little bit.”

Josh chuckles, but he looks sad. He holds out his arms toward me and I do my best to hug him, but my bulging stomach prevents us from getting too close. Josh puts both hands on my stomach, talking directly to the twins when he says, “I’ll be back as soon as you’re born. Well maybe not as soon as you’re born, because I do need to go to school, but like as soon as I can come back. And Frank,” Josh moves his hands up to cup my cheeks. “I’m gonna miss you, Poptart.”

Josh lets me cling to him for a few minutes longer. It’s Bert who eventually steps forward, a frown in place. “We need to head out soon, if we wanna make it back to Jersey before dark.”

Josh pulls away, swallowing hard. He nods. His eyes are wet, but so are mine. Wiping angrily at his tears, Josh forces a smile. “You call me as soon as the babies are here. I expect pictures and videos and for the love of god, Gerard, please help Bert work the camera.”

And that’s it. Bert and Josh grab a few bags and then they descend the stairs. Just like that, they're gone.

I watch from the window upstairs when Josh and Bert climb into the car. Josh waves one last time and I lean into Gerard’s side, watching as they pull out of the parking lot and disappear around the corner.


	57. ffty-svn

**** “You are huge,” is the first thing Donna Way says. I’m lounging back on the couch, the laptop open with Skype set up on the coffee table, and she has a full view of just how large I am.

I grimace, but she’s beaming. “How are you feeling?”

“Shitty,” I admit. I rub circles on my stomach with one hand. “It’s like everything hurts right now. I’m exhausted, and I haven’t done a single thing.”

Donna nods sympathetically. “Yeah, I understand that feeling.” And as someone who’s been pregnant twice, I’m sure she does.

“Gerard tries to understand,” I tell her. “But he just doesn’t get it. Not really. Nobody does. They grasp the medical part of it, but none of them know how it actually feels.”

Donna hums softly, a smile playing on her lips. “How is everything with Gerard?”

I shrug. “He’s been really great. He’s helping Bob and Ray get everything ready for the delivery. He’s like a mother hen. He’s freaking out, trying to make sure nothing goes wrong.”

“That’s not exactly what I mean.” Donna narrows her eyes suspiciously. “I mean, how are  _ you and Gerard _ ?”

I bite my tongue, frowning, and offer another stiff shrug. “We get along.”

“Oh, cut the bullshit, Frank. I know you’re sleeping together.” She’s grinning.

I roll my eyes. “Your Gerard’s mom. I don’t think he wants me telling you about our sex life.”

Donna waves a hand dismissively. “Mikey’s told me all I care to know about your sex life,” She says. “I want to know how you feel. Are you happy, Frank?”

After a slight hesitation, I nod. “I’m happy,” I say. “Gerard is amazing. He loves me, he loves the twins. He’s perfect.”

Donna frowns. “You don’t sound happy,” She accuses, but her voice is still soft. Warm and comforting. Motherly.

“I’m scared,” I admit. Then sigh. “The odds of me surviving this are pretty much fifty-fifty. And if I die, then what? What happens to Gerard? Fuck, I feel like I’m using him. I’m indulging in what we both want right now, but what if this is worse for him in the long run? Knowing what it’s like to have me, only to have it ripped away?”

“Frank, sweetheart,” Donna smiles sadly. “First of all, you are not going to die. Stop thinking like that. You have five people there who are going to do whatever it takes to make sure that doesn’t happen. And secondly, I know what love feels like. It’s worth every moment, even if there’s not a happy ending. Because it’s about the journey, about the things you feel now. And right now, he loves you. If he thinks he might lose you, it’s only more of a reason to be with you while he can. Even if it might hurt in the end.”

I sniffle, biting down on my quivering lip. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

“You won’t. I know you won’t, because you love him, too.”

I nod. “Yeah, I do.”

“You’ll be glad to know, everything has calmed down back here,” she informs me. “There are still a couple amateur reporters trying to catch a story, but you are old news. Doctor Webb is being brushed off as a fraud. He was fired for allegedly faking your test results. Almost everyone has forgotten about the pregnant man.”

“What about my parents?” It’s a question I’ve dreaded asking, but it’s eating at me. I need to know. “How are they?”

Donna shakes her head, shrugging uncertainly. “I don’t speak to them anymore,” She admits. “I’ve seen your mother at the grocery store a couple times, but we didn’t talk. She seems shut-off. Like there’s a box around her. She looked sad.”

The idea that losing me has saddened my mom should make me happy; it’s what I wanted. I wanted my parents to feel just as abandoned as I did. But hearing it now, it makes my heart hurt and a lump rise in my throat.

Thankfully, Donna uses my silence to change topics again. “How far along are you now? When Mikey said your pregnancy was accelerated, I didn’t realize he meant quite so fast.”

“Yeah,” I snort. “Practically overnight, I blew up like a fucking balloon. Bob says the twins are at about thirty-four weeks growth. But I’ve only actually been pregnant for five months. Weird, right? But who knows. I mean, I set the precedent for this, so who the hell even knows what’s normal in this case?”

I suck in a sharp breath when one of the twins kicks particularly hard.

Donna’s brow immediately furrows in a frown. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” I wave her off. “Yeah, I’m fine. They’re just moving around is all.”

A cramp settles in my stomach and my face twists in discomfort.

“I know that look,” Donna says. “Cramps?”

I nod, grimacing.

“Go lie down,” She tells me. “Drink some water. Sleep. You’ll feel better.”

I don’t feel in the mood to argue, so I tell her goodbye, promising to call back again soon, and sign off. It’s when I stand from the couch that I feel the wetness. All over. My sweatpants are soaked, the couch absolutely ruined. A nauseous feeling washes over me. I stumble forward only a step or two before the pain shoots through me.

I gasp, unable to do more than merely hold myself up. It’s in my stomach, my gut. I think I might throw up. I take in a shaky breath. “MIKEY!”

More pain. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing it to subside, but it’s like a swarm of bees buzzing in my ears. My nails dig into my palms as I try to physically hold the pain back. It doesn’t help. I hear a sob, realizing it’s my own. I yell again. “MIKEY!”

The apartment door crashes open and I recognize the voices around me, but my head is muddled, fuzzy. Everything seems far away. “It hurts,” I cry. I’m gripping someone’s hand, unsure who it belongs to.

“Frankie!” I pinpoint Gerard’s voice. “Frankie, we’re gonna get you to Bob, okay? What happened?”

I vaguely notice that they’re holding me up. Bert is on one side, Gerard on the other, and they’re practically dragging me down the hall.

I try to focus, but fail. The sudden pain is overwhelming. I hear screaming that sounds too far away to be mine, but it is. It’s a strangled cry I barely recognize as my own.

There’s movement and shouting around me, but nothing seems distinct. My breathing is hard, rugged and shaky, and underneath the waves of pain my stomach feels sick. They deposit me on the hospital cot and Ray lifts my eyelids, shining a light into my eyes. When he lets go, my head lolls to one side and I watch as Bob sticks a needle in my arm. Someone cuts my shirt and tosses the clothing aside.

Gerard’s hand slides into my own and he brushes some hair out of my face. His bright eyes look down at me. “It’s gonna be okay,” He promises, and his voice sounds clear in the panic around us.

I try to reply, but the pain is starting to dull, numbness taking it’s place. I can’t make my lips move, I can’t tell Gerard one last time that I love him. It’s like being pulled underwater, the surface above getting muddier and murkier, blurring until there’s nothing but blackness surrounding me.

Everything goes dark, and finally the pain goes away.


	58. 58

The sound comes back to me before anything else. It’s like a dream. My body feels light, weightless even, like I’m nothing but a soul floating around above the ground. But I can hear voices, distant and muffled. I can’t tell who they are, much less distinguish any words. Closer, I hear the faint sound of a machine.

_ Beep… beep...beep… _

I try to focus on the sound, following it in my mind. It takes me a moment to place; a heart monitor. My heart. I feel the clip on my finger, the wires against my arm. My hand twitches where it rests at my side.

“Frank?”

The voice is closer now. I still can’t place it. I blink slowly, my eyes feeling sore and dry, but recognize Ray standing near my feet.

I can only huff in response, but Ray’s face breaks into a grin. “You’re awake. Holy shit, you’re awake.” He looks relieved, tired, and ecstatic. “You’ve been out for almost three days. We weren’t even sure if you would--” His smile falters, and he shakes his head, derailing that train of thought. “You’re awake, though. You’re alive. Sit tight, I need to get Bob.”

I start to protest, but it fades off into nothing more than a groan.

By the time Ray and Bob return only a few minutes later, I feel more awake. I’ve managed to sit up. My stomach is nearly flat under the blankets, but I don’t have the courage to lift the covers. There’s an oxygen mask on my face, which I take off and set aside.

“The twins,” I say as soon as Ray and Bob enter the room. My voice cracks and my throat hurts. “They’re okay?”

Bob hands me a bottle of water, telling me to drink. “They’re fine,” He smiles. “Both of them. I want to make sure you’re healing up alright, but then you can go see them.”

I breath out slowly, relief flooding me. The babies are okay. They’re alive. They’re safe. They’re okay.

Ray takes my vitals, which he tells me are normal, and then Bob makes me lie back down on the cot. He changes the bandage over the stitches and looks impressed when he says, “Everything seems great, Frodo. You’re healing up really well. It’s probably all those extra chromosomes, just like the accelerated pregnancy; You’re like superhuman or some shit.” He turns to Ray, looking amused. “Do you think if we cut his arm off, it would just grow back?”

Ray rolls his eyes. “We’re not testing that theory.”

When they’re finished checking me over, Ray helps me stand. My legs are shaky, but stable, and he lets me lean on him for support as I walk.

The room with the babies’ crib is dark, lit only by a small giraffe lamp in the corner. My eyes immediately land on Gerard. He’s standing near the crib, bouncing gently, softly singing Pink Floyd to the baby bundled in his arms. My heart skips at the sight and I lean against the doorframe.

Gerard stops when he sees me. His mouth falls open and he eyes glaze over. In two strides, he’s in front of me. He clutches the baby to his chest with one arm and wraps the other around me. His lips slot perfectly against mine. There’s a wetness on my cheeks and when he pulls back, I realize he’s crying. He breathes slowly. In that moment, there’s so much I want to say, everything I thought I would never have the chance to say again. I want to tell him I love him, thank him for loving us in return, but in the end he just smiles softly. We don’t have to say anything.

Gerard leads me to the rocking chair, sitting me down before kneeling next to me. He carefully puts the baby in my arms. Big eyes stare up at us, taking in the brand new world around them. “Lizzie,” Gerard says.

“She’s real.” It’s amazing to me, in a way. The pregnancy was one impossible happening, but to actually hold a real life baby in my arms, a life I created and carried, it’s something else entirely. Surreal. Mesmerizing. “She’s perfect.”

“She’s not the only one.” I look up at the sound of Mikey’s voice to see him standing in the doorway. He’s holding a bottle to the orange blanket in his arms. “You want to meet your son?”

My throat goes tight at the sound of that. My son. My daughter. My babies. I sniffle, managing a nod.

Gerard takes Lizzie back when Elliott takes her place. He looks almost exactly like his sister, blinking up with curious eyes. His mouth moves, opening and shutting, searching for the bottle. I place it to his lips and he grunts in contentment.

“I don’t want to yell in front of the babies,” Mikey says in a soft voice. He wipes a hand across his eyes and sits on the floor next to me, wrapping his arms around my legs. “But trust me, I am going to yell at you later. That stupid fucking note you gave me.”

Oh, right. The letter I gave Mikey. The one he was supposed to read if I died.

“I’m sorry, Mikes.” I want to hug him, but my hands are full of baby so I nudge him with my leg instead. He tightens his hold on me. Gerard leans against me as well.

“You scared us,” Gerard admits. Lizzie’s got her little fist wrapped around his index finger. He doesn’t look at me. “I thought you were dead.”

Mikey’s body is shaking. Trembling. I slide out of the chair, sitting between them on the floor. Elliott finishes his bottle and I put him against my shoulder, trying to remember how Bert taught us. Eventually the babies fall asleep and Mikey helps me move them into the crib. I stand at the side, watching them sleep. This is my life now. These two small humans, the two men next to me, and the ones elsewhere in the apartment. This is my family.

I turn to Gerard and wrap my arms around him. With my nose buried in his neck, I allow myself to cry. It’s not sadness that fills me this time, it’s something new, something bigger. “I love you,” Gerard whispers.

It’s relief, the ability to finally breathe, to relax, to let myself stop worrying. I’m not thinking about Zacky or my parents or Doctor Webb right now. I’m thinking about Gerard. About Lizzie and Eli.

“I love you, too.”

And with those words, I feel like the weight of the world has been lifted. All of the past just falling away. This is my present, my future, and everything beyond. It’s the start of a brand new life for all of us.

“Do you remember when you said that you’ll be here, for as long as I want you?”

Gerard hums, nodding against my neck. “Yeah, I remember.”

“What if I said forever?”

Gerard chuckles, twisting his fingers through mine. “Forever’s a long time. You sure you’re ready for that kind of commitment?”

“No,” I admit. I lean back to look in his eyes. “Hell, I’m only sixteen. Lord knows I have have enough emotional baggage to fill a Greyhound, not to mention I’m a single dad with two newborns. But I am in love with you. And right now, spending forever with you seems pretty fucking appealing to me.”

Gerard smiles, leaning forward to kiss me slowly. “Forever,” He agrees. He looks down at the twins, still sleeping soundly in their new crib. “I think that sounds pretty fucking appealing to me, too.”


	59. nifty-fine; the epilogue

_ Six Years Later... _

The gray sky seemed to hang like a pendulum. The clouds glistened like a blade swinging back and forth ominously above the oblivious crowd in black. It would rain soon, I was sure.

“Do Catholic funerals always take this long?” Mikey asks. His hands are stuffed deep in the pockets of his jacket, hood pulled close around him. The late fall air had a bite to it, an aching cold that suited this day perfectly. It was ironic, in a way. The chill didn’t bother me.

“Shut up, Mikey,” Gerard hushes him. Then I feel his hand press against my lower back. He doesn’t say anything, but his presence is enough.

In the distance, the Priest moves his hands around. He’s holding a Bible, closed. It’s more for look than anything. I’m sure he’s spewed the same speech a thousand times, and maybe will a thousand more. Standard eulogy. We were too far away to hear the words, but it didn’t matter. I didn’t want to hear them anyway.

As they lower my father’s casket into the ground, I make up my own eulogy.

_ Here’s to the bastard who hated me from the second I told him I was gay. _

_ To the man who gave me his DNA and nothing else. _

_ The man who took away my home and my family when I needed him the most. _

_ May he rot in peace. _

When the crowd begins to disperse, I can see a few distinct people. Donna Way, offering a final withering condolence. She looks toward us, a little group of misfits on the edge of the cemetery, and smiles sadly. Then she follows her husband to the car with the others.

“You don’t have to do this, Frank.” It’s Gerard. I can’t look at him, feeling almost ashamed for being here, though I have every right to be. He sounds concerned, which only makes me feel worse.

“Can you wait in the car?” I ask.

Mikey frowns, and Gerard starts to protest, but eventually they both give in. Gerard presses a kiss to my temple and then his warmth next to me is gone.

I wait until my mother is the only one left. Distant relatives and co-workers linger a little longer, but eventually even the Priest is meandering toward the cars. That’s when I move.

My mother is looking down, sniffling, when I approach. She must hear my footsteps because she looks up. Her eyes are blank, dull in a way that’s almost painful to see. Empty. But when she sees me, her eyes alight with…  _ something _ . Hope, maybe.

Her lip quivers, almost a smile, and then a grimace, then an outright frown. “Frank?” Her voice cracks. She sounds a thousand years older than the last time I heard her voice. Could it have only been six years ago?

“Frankie.” She takes a step forward, arms outstretched, but she freezes when I stumble back. Her arms drop to her sides. “Frank. Hi, sweetheart.”

I don’t say anything. I’d run through this a million times in my head, imagining all the things I’d say to my parents if I ever saw them again. And yet now, actually facing her, I can’t manage a single thing.

“You look so grown up,” Mom says. She laughs softly. “So handsome. You look just like your father.”

“No,” I shake my head. I look down. My face is burning, even in the cold air. “Please don’t say that.”

Mom suprises me by simply nodding. “I’m sorry. You’re right, I shouldn’t have said that.” When I don’t speak again, she fills the silence. “You’re so grown up,” She repeats. “You just turned twenty-three, right?”

After a small hesitation, I nod.

There’s more silence, and then she says, “I’m sorry. I can’t say that enough. I’m sorry for everything, Frankie. I made a mistake.”

She inhales a watery breath, tears spilling freely. Funny. She hadn’t shed a single one when my father died, and now here she was apologizing to me, a blubbering mess. She reaches a hand out again, but doesn’t step forward.

“I regretted it every day,” She sobs. “I regret letting you leave. I should have done something. I should have kicked Franklin out instead. I should I have protected you. And I’m sorry I’ve always been a terrible mother.”

She cries some more, noisy, unabashed sobs that make her entire body shake. When she quiets down a little, arms curled around her torso like she’s trying to physically hold herself together, I take a step forward. She doesn’t look up until I rest a hand on her shoulder.

“You made bad choices sometimes,” I say, surprised to find my own voice is thick as well. I’m crying, too. I sniffle and try again. “You screwed up. You abandoned me.”

She sniffles, nodding along, accepting my words because she understands that it’s the truth.

Eventually, I sigh and say, “Lizzie and Eli.”

She looks up, confused.

I bite my lip. “My kids. Lizzie and Eli Way.”

Though there are tears staining her cheeks, a smile breaks across her face. “Those are beautiful names.”

I laugh, ducking my head. “They’re amazing. They’re perfect. And I wouldn’t trade them for anything else in the world.”

Mom reaches out with a tentative hand and caresses my cheek. She looks like she’s going to start crying again. “I am so proud of you, Frank. I know you’re a wonderful dad.”

I reach up to take her hand in mine. “You were kind of a bad mom,” I tell her. “But… You know, you can make up for that. You don’t have to be a bad grandmother, too.”

 

A week later, Gerard and Ray are bustling around the kitchen, bickering about the correct way to cook a turkey. I smile absently, watching them move around each other. Everyone else had been kicked out of the kitchen, either for stealing food or burning it.

Bob sits at the dining room table with Lizzie to his left and Elliott on his right. All three of them are working on hand turkeys. “Daddy!”Eliza screeches suddenly, holding up her paper turkey.

“Lizard!” I screech back. She giggles maniacally, toppling over onto Bob. I slide into the seat next to her and she instantly scrambles into my lap.

“Me and Eli showed Uncle Bob how to make chickens with our fingers, just like we did at school.” She leans over and conspiratorially whispers, “Uncle Bob is kind of bad at it, but you should tell him it looks pretty anyways so you don’t hurt his feelings.”

Bob throws his glue stick on the table and frowns at the paper turkey in front of him. “My fingers are too fat.”

The doorbell rings and Bob jumps up, grateful for the disturbance. “I’ll get it!”

Eli holds up his turkey then, saying, “It’s green, see? ‘Cause the Hulk is green. And he’s my favorite Avenger.”

“I thought Iron Man was your favorite Avenger,” I say.

Eli just rolls his eyes. “No, Daddy. That was last week. Now Hulk is my favorite.”

“Oh, of course.” I nod seriously.

“Frodo,” Bob appears in the doorway, trailed by a few more newcomers. “More guests.”

I stand to greet Donna, giving her a hug before the twins spot her. “Gramma!” They cheer in unison just before stampeding toward her. It’s Thanksgiving, but Donna kneels to hand them both a small wrapped box. I’ve told her a million times that Thanksgiving is not a gift-giving holiday, but she only smiled condescendingly and stated, “Every holiday is an excuse to give gifts, especially for my only grandchildren.”

Behind her, Bert is shuffling into the room. “Things One and Two!” He throws up his arms and the twins abandon their gifts to greet him.

“Bert, move your A-S-S,” Josh snarks, squeezing past Bert. “Their favorite Uncle Josh has arrived.”

“Daddy said that’s a bad word,” Eli says seriously. He watches Josh with big green eyes.

“It’s only a bad word if I say it,” Josh says. “Not if I spell it.”

“A-S-S!” Eli yells at the top of his lungs, and bounces back to his turkey. “A-S-S!”

Josh just cackles.

Bert and Josh join Eli and Lizzie at the table, the kids proudly showing off their hand turkeys. Bob takes Donna’s jacket, hanging it up in the corner. In the kitchen, Mikey kisses Ray, joking about his “Kiss The Cook” apron.

And then, behind Donna in the doorway, my mother appears.

She looks out of place in the domestic scene, like a moose in the middle of a rain forest. She fidgets, glancing around her. Her lips twitch with a sort of smile when she sees me.

“This is a lovely home,” She comments, like she’s speaking to a realtor about buying a house. But it comforts me, knowing that she finds this just as awkward and uncomfortable as I do.

“Linda,” Donna smiles easily. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Mrs. Iero,” Mikey says. There’s a tight smile in place and his hand is wrapped almost crushingly around Ray’s. “What a surprise.”

“I invited her,” I interject. “I umm… I thought it would be nice. Having her here.”

She offers a sad smile. “It’s alright, Frank. If I’m not welcome here, I can--” Her words trail off as her gaze shifts to where the kids are sitting at the table. Oblivious to the tension in the air, they’re still babbling at Bert and Josh.

“Eliza, Elliott,” Gerard’s voice is next to me suddenly. Soothing and calm. “Can you come here for a second?”

The twins scramble to their feet, scurrying over. Eli eyes Linda curiously and whispers, “Dad. Who’s that?”

Gerard kneels and I follow his example, sitting on the floor next to him. Lizzie plops herself down in my lap. “You know how Gramma Donna is Dad’s mom, right?” I ask. “Well this is Linda. She’s my mom.”

Lizzie shakes her head fervently, her dark hair flying into her eyes. “You don’t have a mom. You told us. You said some people have two daddies, and some people have two mommies, and some people, like you, don’t have a mommy or a daddy.”

“Daddy’s mom wasn’t here for a long time,” Gerard explains. “She was busy, so she didn’t have time to be a mom. But she’s here now and she wants to meet you. Do you think you can say hi?”

The kids stand up, going over to face Linda. Eliza sticks her hand out for the grown up to shake, saying, “My name is Eliza Way. Everybody calls me Lizzie. ‘Cept Daddy, he calls me Lizard.”

“I’m Elliott Michael,” Her brother says next, but doesn’t shake her hand. He puts his little fists on his hips instead, like he’s sizing her up. “I got named after Uncle Mikey ‘cause Daddy said he’s the coolest guy ever. Cooler than Iron Man.”

Lizzie cocks her head to the left, studying Linda. “What do we call you?”

“Well,” My mother says. She looks overwhelmed, like she might cry or spontaneously burst because emotions. “Umm… You can call me Grandma, if you want. Or just Linda. Or Ms. Iero. Whatever you want to call me, okay?”

“How come you didn’t have time to be a mommy?” Eli wonders, his tone accusing. “Dad says it’s the best job in the whole wide world.”

Linda looks sad, but slowly she kneels so she’s the same height as the kids. “I tried to be a mom, and I wasn’t good at it.”

I want to tell her that she’s wrong, that it was my father’s fault, but even I know that she made her own decisions. She made mistakes. Some of the blame lies with her, and she’s had to live with that.

“Do you want to make a hand turkey?” Lizzie asks politely. “Me and Eli can show you how to make one. It’s real easy.” She takes Linda by the hand and leads her to the table, then she walks her through tracing her hand and cutting it out, reminding the grown-up to be careful with the scissors.

Mikey continues to glare at my mother all night when she’s not looking, and Bert practically ignores her completely, but by the time everyone leaves a new lightness seems to fill me. The kids have passed out on the couch and Gerard and I sit down on the floor near them.

“Today was good,” Gerard says. “It was nice of you to invite Linda.”

“She deserved a second chance. It wasn’t her decision to kick me out, it was my father’s. She just didn’t know how to say no to him.”

Gerard brushes a few fingers through my hair, smiling at me. “You’re a good person, Frank.”

I lean forward to kiss him, but pull back with a smile before things can get too heated. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Oh?” Gerard quirks an eyebrow. “Weird, I wanted to ask you something, too. You go first.”

I don’t argue. Instead, I stand up. I wander into the bedroom, digging through the dresser for a minute, and then come back. When I sit down, I balance the small black box on Gerard’s knee. He picks it up, opens it, and gapes. “Frank?”

I just tilt my head, studying him. “I tried to think of a big sappy speech, but I suck at speeches, so I’ll keep it simple; Will you marry me, Gee?”

He surges forward, the ring forgotten for the time being, and kisses me. It’s a deep, passionate kiss that takes my breath away, leaving me panting after just a few short seconds. “Yes. Yes, I will marry you.” He kisses me again, but I nip at his lip playfully.

“Hey, isn’t there something you wanted to ask me, too?”

Gerard’s expression immediately sobers and he leans back, sitting up straight. He picks up the ring, fiddling with it before sliding it onto his finger. He looks at it fondly. There’s a long silence before he sighs. “I was just thinking… We’re settled here. We have a house and jobs, we’re getting married--” He holds his newly-ringed finger up to prove his last point. “We’ve got something really good here. And I was just wondering…” He trails off, looking back to the sleeping kids. “Would you ever consider having another one?”

Before I can censor myself, I blurt out, “Oh fuck no.”

Gerard frowns.

I reach forward automatically, taking his hand. “I just mean… After what we went through to have the twins, I don’t think I can physically have more. It almost killed me last time.”

A smile begins forming on Gerard’s lips, and I know he can sense where I’m going with this.

“But… there are other ways to have kids. Surrogacy, or adoption.”

“Is that something you would want?” Gerard asks warily.

Slowly, I nod. “Yeah. It’s obviously something we’d have to talk about more, like in depth, but yeah. I think I would like that.” I press another kiss to Gerard’s lips, smirking when I say, “I think we should get the kids into bed.”

He must hear the insinuation in my voice because he smiles and stands, pulling me to my feet. He bundles Elliott into his arms while I pick up Lizzie. They grumble a little when we tuck them into their beds, but fall back into dreamland easily enough. And then Gerard and I move to our own bedroom.

Pressing me back into the mattress, Gerard trails his tongue teasingly across my neck. When he talks, it tickles my skin. “Are you happy?”

Without hesitation, I nod. “So fucking happy.”

Gerard leans back, straddling my hips. He looks sincere. “Really?”

“Yes.” I reach up, brushing a hand through his hair. “Are you happy?”

“Very happy,” He admits.

“Good,” I smile, leading him back down to where I can kiss him again. “I love you so much.”

His response is muffled by my shoulder, where he’s attempting to leave a killer hickey, but I understand. Even without words, I get it. We promised each other forever together, and though the past six years have been amazing, this is still just the beginning.

_ The End. _


End file.
